Love and Art
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: Engmano AU. Lovino Vargas, wealthy entrepreneur, needs someone to run his little art gallery in Washington. Arthur Kirkland, frustrated artist, wants to find a job in his field. There is a companion story to this - Life Sketches - and a sequel, Love and Art: Book II.
1. An April Mood

**An April Mood. **(Charles Burchfield, watercolor and charcoal on paper, 1946-1955)

Lovino put his pen down, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Things had started out pretty poorly this morning, and hadn't improved. He glared out the windows of his executive suite at the rainy afternoon. The city looked as bleak as he currently felt.

Dark-haired, slender, and almost perpetually irritated, Lovino Vargas was one of the city's youngest entrepreneurs. When his stepfather had died two years ago, leaving him a fairly sizeable fortune, he'd decided to diversify into some smaller businesses that appealed to him, rather than following in his stepfather's footsteps as the head of a large business conglomerate. He'd sold out, putting most of his assets into investments, but continued to maintain personal control over a few more interesting ventures.

At the age of twenty he'd inherited a small Italian firm that hand-built race cars; this company had been started by his maternal grandfather, and he considered it his true inheritance. The firm built only four cars a year, to exacting standards, and they sold for a very great deal of money. He used that money to fund his own obsession with cars, keeping at least two in each city where he regularly did business. Here in the District, he kept a restored Triumph Spitfire for his daily runabout and a Jaguar XK-E for those more important occasions. Very important to own only two-seaters: this meant he couldn't be roped into driving large groups of people around. Not many of his associates even knew about the E-type. He tried to keep it that way. Then again, he hadn't been socializing much at all, lately. Work was out of control.

Lovino was now twenty-six and in addition to the race car firm, he owned a small independent American publishing house in New York, a French winery, a small hotel (also in Italy), and an art gallery here in Washington. It was this gallery that was causing his current frustration.

His education had been business-based, and he'd been very successful in school and afterwards, in the business world. But Lovino was also a bit of a dilettante; he liked all kinds of art, but he liked it for its own sake. Attempts at studying art as elective were colossal failures. He couldn't dissect an image and see what made it praiseworthy; he only knew that he liked it, or that he didn't. When the small gallery had come up for sale last year, he'd bought it impulsively, hoping to be able to learn more about the workings behind an artist's creativity. This attempt had failed. Lovino hadn't even set foot in the gallery for the last six months.

And today he'd learned that his gallery manager, Ms. Taylor, was resigning. He put his head down on the desk. "Dammit." At least she'd given him two months' notice.

Well, he had two choices: sell it, or keep it going. Selling it was an easy option, except for the possibility of losing money on the deal. Lovino hated to lose money. It was like an admission of failure. But he was reasonably certain he could unload it fairly quickly. Tomorrow he'd go down and take a look at it. Not to make any hasty sales decisions, and not to talk Ms. Taylor into staying, either. He just wanted to cast an eye over the place, since he hadn't been there in so long. See if he should make the effort to sell. It would make the rest of his workload easier, if he didn't have to factor the gallery's business operations into his daily schedule.

Or should he keep it? He had only two employees there: Ms. Taylor and an older man who came in from time to time to help hang paintings, shift displays, and the like. No chance of promoting _him_. Lovino would need to find a new gallery manager. This too would probably not be difficult. There were several placement firms in the area that could likely help him; Ms. Taylor could do the actual interviews. The gallery did make money, and he also felt comfortable actually having one of his own businesses in the city where he'd chosen to live. It would be a bit silly, living in Washington with all his businesses being out of the area. But again, that was minor.

As he raised his head off the desk to make some more notes, he caught a glimpse of his dragon tattoo showing through his sleeve. Dammit, he couldn't even get good shirts anymore! Lovino made a mental note to throw this one away and pay more attention to his wardrobe. He wouldn't be taken seriously with the big black tattoo visible on his bicep through the thin fabric of a cheap dress shirt.

Argh. Nothing, nothing was going right today. He put his glasses back on, picked up the pen, and got back to his work.

…

_Chapters in this story will all be named after artworks I like. _

_There is a companion piece to this story called "Life Sketches" which focuses on the supporting characters. I recommend you finish "Love and Art" and then read "Life Sketches"; it will be less confusing that way, and you won't have any spoilers. Thank you for reading!_


	2. Starry Night

**Starry Night. **(Vincent van Gogh, oil on canvas, 1889)

"Arthur, are you going on break now?"

The blond man, pouring himself a cup of coffee, turned to the waitress at his side. "Yes, why? Do you need me to do something?"

"No, but we're down to the last piece of apple pie. I know how much you like it – did you want the last piece?"

"Of course," he smiled. "I do love it. We have the best pies in the District."

"Take some ice cream to top it, if you like."

She turned away to take the other piece to her customer. Arthur slipped the last piece onto a plate, picked up his coffee, and idly turned to see who'd gotten the other piece.

And lost his breath.

Arthur stood gazing intently at the man, who was sitting alone, reading a book, and now beginning to absently eat the apple pie. Dark, intellectual-looking (though that may have simply been an effect of his severe tortoiseshell glasses), he made a very intriguing picture at the diner's small table. This late at night, with the interior lights on, he was also reflected in the dark picture window. Arthur was quite taken by the artistic composition of the scene, and stared for a little while longer, trying to memorize it, wanting to sketch and paint it when he got home. Perhaps he should start bringing his sketchbook and pencils to work?

Then he realized he was staring at the man like an idiot and frowned, taking the coffee and pie into the kitchen, where he could sit and eat quietly.

Well, he was definitely over Alfred, he considered, if the simple sight of a handsome stranger could affect him so powerfully.

Arthur had moved to Washington last year, following his new lover Alfred, a tall, beautiful blond with an infectious laugh and incredible kisses. He'd hoped that moving to vibrant America would open up new doors, new opportunities for him. Washington, with its plethora of museums and art galleries, had seemed like an ideal place to live. He'd even registered his curriculum vitae with a few local placement firms, maybe to work in a gallery, or in one of the museums. Surely this life change would help him gain access not only to potential patrons, but also to art professionals that might help him advance his own works.

But no.

The Englishman always been praised for his artistic creations, even as a child, and yet now, after several years of study, work, and trying to sell his own art, he was no closer to success than before. And then, just two months after his arrival in the States, Alfred had pulled up his roots and run off to California with a Russian man. Arthur hadn't heard a peep from him since that day, nearly a year ago.

He continued to count himself lucky that he'd never moved in with Alfred; that he'd not relied on him beyond the narrow bounds of their whirlwind romance. Having found a fairly stressless job at this diner (which admittedly was not the most classy place in town, but did have remarkably fine desserts), he had been easily able to support himself; working this evening shift allowed him to paint during the day, in the natural light. He'd evolved a comfortable existence.

Arthur was quite happy creating his art. He just couldn't see why it didn't sell.

He was still itching to sketch that man – that scene – but now his break was over. Yes, he'd definitely bring his sketch pad and pencils to work from now on, for emergencies like this.

The blond walked out front to see what work needed to be done. Ah, the customer was still there, just finishing up his pie. Arthur gazed at the brightly-lit scene for a few more seconds, although he could probably have painted the diner's interior from memory by now.

"Ah," the diner's owner said, crossing to him. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off? It's going to be slow, because of the rain, and we don't want you getting overworked." The man smiled fondly at his most reliable busboy.

"What? But I don't need to go home; I just had my two days off," he pointed out reasonably. "Why don't you let someone else go? I really do need the money, and I don't mind staying."

"If you're certain, then I don't mind sending someone else home."

"I'm certain."

"Very well." The owner moved away, presumably to find another lucky employee. Arthur turned back to his contemplation, but then a waitress beckoned him, and he had to get back to work.

By the time he had a chance to look around again, the dark-haired man was gone.


	3. Composition 8

**Composition 8. **(Wassily Kandinsky, oil on canvas, 1923.)

Lovino had decided to keep the gallery for at least one more year before making a final decision about selling. Ms. Taylor was reasonably certain they could find a replacement for her within the two month timeframe, so he'd given her the names of the placement agencies and asked her to get on it. He'd then spent some time looking at the artworks displayed in his gallery, still confused about it all.

But he'd come away from the gallery with a new idea. Perhaps he'd try creating something himself. He'd done a little sketching as a boy, but in the scramble to master the business world, hobbies like that had fallen by the wayside. It had probably been more than ten years since he'd actively tried creating anything. Maybe by creating art himself, he could understand more of what made an artist's work successful, or more importantly, _significant_. He'd vacillated on this for an entire week before kicking himself for his indecision and storming into the largest art supply store in the area on his way home from work. Sketching materials were cheap; he didn't need to dither so much!

As he stood looking at all the different choices of sketching pencils he heard a vaguely familiar voice. Lovino couldn't place it, though, so he went back to his browsing. He chose a packet of pencils and moved on to the sketch pads, which were not too far from the cash register. He heard the voice again and this time looked up.

That was a surprise. It looked like – and sounded like – that blond guy from the diner. Well, he supposed a lot of people dabbled in art in their spare time.

Before last week, Lovino hadn't visited that diner in a very long time; it was near his old office, but somewhat out of the way for the new one. But they did make damn good desserts, which is what had made him go so far afield that night.

Lovino had wondered about the blond – an Englishman, by the sound of his voice – who'd preferred to keep working rather than take the rest of the night off. This baffled him; Lovino hated work, and if he hadn't been his own boss, he'd be shirking every chance he got! But his companies wouldn't run themselves. Logically, though, he did know that there were people in the world to whom a few extra hours of work could make a significant financial difference.

His attention had been broken away from his book by the accented voice as the blond spoke with the restaurant manager that night. Lovino had tried to continue reading, but his attention, once broken, had been lost. He had looked up to see the two men speaking together, idly watching them, until realizing it would be considered rude to stare. Instead, he'd looked at their reflections in the big glass window, eavesdropping a little, wanting to get back to his book.

Purely as a mental exercise, listening to their conversation, Lovino had let himself wonder why the guy didn't have better things to do than stick around at work. He looked young enough to maybe still be a college student, or perhaps a graduate student. Just because his, Lovino's, social life sucked, didn't mean everyone else in the world was suffering too, but…whatever.

Now, in the art store, Lovino turned back to the sketch pads. He didn't want that waiter to think he was some kind of creepy stalker; that is, if the blond had even noticed him at the diner. It was bad enough that his last three dates had been obvious fortune-hunters; women like that were infuriating, which is why he'd withdrawn from the social scene so abruptly last year. It would be even worse to make headlines as a stalker of attractive young _men_. Dammit. Lovino pushed a hand through his hair in irritation, but then took a minute to smooth it down again.

He browsed carefully through the store, occasionally checking back to see if the man was gone. Once he was satisfied that they wouldn't accidentally encounter each other, he made his way to the cash register with his purchases.

…

_In case you hadn't guessed from this chapter, the cited artwork may not necessarily have anything to do with the chapter content._


	4. The Son of Man

**The Son of Man. **(René Magritte, oil on canvas, 1964)

Arthur was in an excellent mood. Not only did he have two consecutive days off after tonight, but he had some really good plans for those two days. His albino friend Gilbert had managed to schedule a midweek vacation day; tomorrow they were going to Kings Dominion. Arthur _loved_ American amusement parks. He was determined to beat Gilbert at skeeball this time.

And then, even more importantly, he had a job interview scheduled for the following day! One of the placement agencies had contacted him about a small art gallery that needed a manager. Arthur couldn't believe his luck. He'd first be meeting with the current manager, who was leaving employment there, and if all went well, he'd meet with the gallery owner next week.

Arthur was actually glad he had arranged to spend the between day with Gilbert, because if he hadn't made plans, he'd end up pacing around his apartment in a pother all day. Going to Kings Dominion would help distract him a little, and Gilbert was always a lot of fun to spend time with. He was looking forward to hearing about the albino's latest love life exploits. They were always many and varied.

Yet there was still one thing bothering him. Despite all his eager plans for the painting of the diner's interior, he was having difficulty with it. He'd easily roughed out the setting – not difficult, since he saw it almost every day – but he was having a great deal of trouble with the seated figure. Apart from the dark hair and the reading glasses, he didn't remember much of the businessman's appearance, other than its general allure. Yes, he could put an anonymous face on the figure, but…he wanted to do it right. Several times Arthur had found himself wishing the customer would come back to the diner, so he could refresh his memory and get the image right for the painting, but he hadn't yet seen him return.

"Did you want the last piece of lemon cheesecake?" A waitress' voice broke into his musings. "Take a five-minute break."

"Thanks," he smiled, putting it on a plate.

Just then her cell phone rang, and the waitress answered it. "Hello? Oh…yes, hold on." She turned to Arthur. "Can you take the other piece of cake to table five? I have to take this call."

He nodded. Arthur put the cake plate on a tray and picked it up to walk around the corner. And as though his thoughts had called the man into existence, there he sat...at table five...the dark-haired stranger, glasses down on the end of his nose, again reading a book.

Arthur stood frozen for several seconds. Eventually a different waitress came over and jostled Arthur's arm. "Are you all right?"

At the sound of her voice, the man at the table looked up. Looked right at him, and held his gaze with widening amber eyes, lips parting subtly, a rosy stain rising to flush his cheeks. Arthur felt an answering blush on his own face as he stared fixedly back at him.

The waitress, not seeing this, shook Arthur's arm again, breaking into the blond's racing thoughts, and he looked at her in confusion. "I – yes, I'm all right. Thank you. I just need to take this – this plate to the customer." He tentatively looked over at table five, but the red-faced customer had his head buried in his book again.

Arthur walked over to the table; the waitress shrugged and walked back to the kitchen. "H-here's your cheesecake, sir."

"Thank you," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the book.

Arthur headed back towards the kitchen, feeling strangely unnerved. Before he turned the corner, he looked back at the table, but the man was still reading. Arthur, blushing again, hurried to the kitchen, picking up his piece of cheesecake on the way.

Instead of coffee, he poured himself a cold glass of milk to help calm his nerves, and sat in the corner to eat. Well…the stranger's face was definitely refreshed in his mind, that much was certain. Arthur was going to go right home after work and sketch it. Because, like a git, he kept forgetting to bring his sketching materials to work. Well, after this, he wouldn't forget again.

He enjoyed the last bite of cheesecake leisurely, savoring its texture, before idly wondering whether the stranger might be doing the exact same thing with _his_ piece of cheesecake. Then he felt his face flaming again and punched the tabletop. Arthur felt like an idiot...a juvenile, rustic idiot...and sank his face into his hands. He needed to get back to work, without making more of a fool out of himself in front of customers, and wished he had more than just a five-minute break. It really wasn't enough time to calm down properly. He put the dirty dishes next to the dishwasher, splashed some cold water on his face, dried it, and went back out to work.

Arthur knew he'd have to go around the corner eventually, so he nerved himself up to take a peek right away, but the mysterious customer was gone, the cheesecake plate empty. He hoped he hadn't frightened away a customer with his boorish behavior. Sighing, he picked up the empty plate and got back to his work.


	5. The Swing

**The Swing. **(Jean-Honoré Fragonard, oil on canvas, ca. 1767)

"Eh, Gilbert, today's going to be so much fun. I'm glad the weather turned out well." Arthur scooted into the front seat of his friend's beat-up convertible, normally only used on weekends. They put the roof down and Gilbert roared off, not intending to stop until they reached their destination.

"So how have you been?" the albino asked. "Keeping busy? Eating too much cheesecake? Kesesese! I know how much you love that stuff." He reached out and poked Arthur's stomach. "Whoa, getting a bit paunchy there. Better start working out!"

Of course Arthur started blushing as he thought about the cheesecake last night, but luckily Gilbert was focused on the road. He chose to ignore the "paunchy" comment. "Well, everything's pretty standard, except that tomorrow I have a job interview."

"No kidding! Where?"

Arthur explained about the placement agency's call and the Galleria Piccola. He'd walked past it yesterday before work, and it was in quite a nice area, with a lot of foot traffic; he had instantly realized that it might do a pretty good business. "So the current manager's leaving, and they're looking for a replacement."

"Huh." Gilbert paused a moment. "You know I don't like to be a wet blanket, Artie, but…are you sure you're qualified? Don't get all upset!" he went on, although Arthur hadn't said a word. "You know what I mean. You've been working at that diner ever since you moved here. How did you even get the interview?"

"My credentials are quite adequate," his friend muttered, although Gilbert _was_ being a wet blanket and he _did_ like being one. "Look, don't talk about it anymore. I have a good feeling and I don't want to jinx it, or to have you dragging it down at all. Okay?"

"Yes, all right, you party pooper. What else is new? Gone on any dates lately?"

"No," he laughed, but then a vision of the blushing, dark-haired stranger came into his mind's eye, and he turned red again. Arthur rested his elbow on the car door and covered his face with his hand. Bloody hell, if he was going to react like this to every other sentence out of Gilbert's mouth, he might as well have stayed home alone and gotten in a pother! "What about you?" he asked. Hopefully this would keep his friend conversationally occupied until they reached the amusement park.

And, in fact, this did prove to be a successful ploy. Gilbert was a young bank executive and always dressed very elegantly for work, very casual-sexy on the weekends. He looked good, and he knew it. Women and men were constantly pursuing him. But his one rule was that he never did the asking. He'd go out with anyone who asked him – famous for it – but he refused to instigate anything. And he never slept with anybody. This kept things casual, kept him footloose and fancy-free, and amused him no end. He spent the rest of the two-hour drive enlightening Arthur about all the dates he'd had since they'd last seen each other, about a month ago. When they got to the park, they were just about up to date on Gilbert's love life. Arthur grinned.

"Are we going to play skeeball today?" he asked as they paid their entrance fee.

"Of course! You're going down, as usual, Artie. You should know by now that you _never_ will win against the awesomeness that is me."

"I may never beat you at skeeball, but at least my grammar will always be better than yours, wanker," Arthur snorted, and Gilbert started laughing again.

They wandered off together to find some fun rides.

…

In the end, the day had been quite successful, and quite exhausting. They'd screamingly ridden all the death-defying rides, eaten ice cream and cotton candy, and yes, played skeeball…which Gilbert had won every time, whooping and cackling. Arthur sighed, but he really didn't care. It had been a really fun day.

On the drive home, Arthur started having those sudden irrational fears that everyone gets before an interview: Gilbert's car would break down, and Arthur wouldn't be back in DC in time…he'd get home to find a phone message saying they'd filled the position…that sort of thing. When he was safely inside his own apartment, with no phone messages waiting, he let out a deep breath, finally beginning to relax, hoping to make a good showing tomorrow.

…

_To Gilbert, everyone else in the entire world is a party pooper…but he doesn't really mind because he's awesome enough to counteract it every time._


	6. Prince Henry

**Prince Henry. **(Adriaen Hanneman, oil on canvas, 1653)

Lovino was rather optimistic today. Ms. Taylor had finished the first round of interviews and had eliminated all but two of the applicants. Yesterday he'd met with the first candidate, a well-qualified older gentleman who had formerly been a docent at the National Gallery; the man was quiet and unassuming, yet Lovino had felt that he might be a suitable replacement for the vivacious Ms. Taylor, making a change of pace for the gallery's image.

Today he was due to meet with the other remaining candidate. He was running a little late, and swept into the gallery in a hurry. Ms. Taylor met him in the spacious lobby area.

"Sorry I'm late," he offered. "Is he here yet?"

She handed him a clipboard with the candidate's paperwork. "In the office. But please, take a moment to look over his paperwork first. He's young, but quite earnest, and I believe he actually might be a better fit than yesterday's interviewee. That's why I saved him for last."

Lovino peered through the glass panels of the office and nearly dropped the clipboard.

No. It couldn't possibly be that waiter. It just could not be. And yet the man's head was turned as he idly looked out the office window, and Lovino could quite clearly see that it was_._

Dammit. He knew he'd be unable to sit through any kind of legitimate interview now; he still felt stupid about that business at the diner last week, and felt himself turning red. And he knew the blond would recognize him after that rude behavior. He scrubbed his face with the hand that wasn't holding the clipboard.

And yet – Ms. Taylor thought this man was the better candidate.

She was looking at him curiously. Lovino needed to do something fast. "Hire him," he snapped impulsively. "I – I only came in to tell you I was called away on business. I trust your judgment; the paperwork looks good. Hire him and I'll meet with him after he's had a chance to train with you for a week or so. The usual paperwork, and so on."

Ms. Taylor looked surprised, but Lovino didn't care. He needed to get out of his gallery right now_._ As he moved back towards the door – out of range of accidental eye contact with the blond – he stressed, "Got that? Hire him, get him started as soon as you can; keep me posted. I'll be back in the office tomorrow."

"I'll get it done, sir," she said, taking the clipboard from him, and returning to the candidate in her office.

…

Lovino was so agitated he jumped in his car and started driving…somewhere, anywhere. What the hell had he just done? That's the kind of emotional decision that caused businesses to go under!

On the other hand, he had already decided that if things didn't go well, he'd sell the gallery in a year. A year should be manageable. He trusted Ms. Taylor, too, and she'd believed he was the best candidate.

But – why the hell had he done this? Why did he even want this guy around? He didn't know him, didn't have any reason to choose him over the older guy.

Except that Ms. Taylor thought he was the right choice. Yes. That's right.

But if looking at him – interacting with him – was going to freak Lovino out every time, he should have gone with the first candidate.

No, it wouldn't be a problem. Lovino rarely came to the gallery anyway, so after that first (no doubt) awkward meeting, he wouldn't have to encounter the man very often.

Argh, he didn't even know his fucking name; he'd been too flustered to read the paperwork! He punched the steering wheel in agitation. What the hell was the matter with him?

Well, he'd actually interviewed the older bastard yesterday, and didn't remember his name either.

After an hour of stupid, panicked thoughts like these, he found himself nearing Virginia's horse country, where he stopped for lunch at an elegant inn. By this time, he'd mostly calmed down; he'd been able to logically think through the process of hiring the unknown blond, the proper behavior to display when they were finally introduced. Lovino was not a child; he was a professional, and he was not about to let a little personal embarrassment get in the way of running a successful business. He paid the check and drove home, still thinking, but much less panicked.

One thing was certain. He couldn't go back to that diner anymore…or at least not until he knew the waiter was done working there. Lovino absolutely did not want to risk another asinine reaction like the one last week. Not with someone who would become his employee. (His employee! Dammit.) And he couldn't even figure out why he'd reacted that way at the diner. It had been so fucking stupid_. _Just a guy bringing him a piece of cake. This got him agitated all over again.

It wasn't until much later at night that he realized how unfair this was going to be to the blond. He'd seen quite clearly the man's discomfiture in the diner, when Lovino had been staring at him like an idiot. Now Lovino's plan was to offer him a job, hire him away from the diner, and _then_ spring a face-to-face meeting on him? That would be very impolite. Not to mention it might frighten him into quitting on the spot…and then, if he'd already left his job at the diner, he'd be out of work…Gah, this whole situation was so frustrating!

But Lovino didn't know how else to handle it. Ah, if he hadn't panicked this morning, the whole ordeal would have been over by now; they would have met, maybe gotten embarrassed, but he could have easily (maybe) regained his professional demeanor and gone from there. Now he'd be spending the rest of the night worrying about this, and, well…_dammit._

After much tossing and turning, he decided to talk to Ms. Taylor in the morning, find out what had been accomplished, if anything, and go from there. There was no point in continuing to fret about it tonight.

...

_Another painting that has nothing to do with the chapter. Sorry. _


	7. The Street Lamp

**The Street Lamp. **(Giacomo Balla, oil on canvas, 1909, also known as **The Street Light**)

All the diner employees seemed very amused tonight, watching Arthur's bubbly good mood. He hadn't yet turned in his resignation, intending to do so at the end of his shift, but couldn't stop humming and grinning as he thought about his new job. He was going to make a bloody good success of it. Bet on it.

And his diner painting was going so well, too! Everything was looking rosy.

He was just about to go on his break when the dark stranger, without his glasses, walked in the door. Arthur didn't want to stare, but he couldn't make himself look away. He took a deep breath, not moving.

The man then looked right at him, and instead of allowing himself to be seated, walked over to Arthur. "Excuse me. Is it – is it possible I could speak with you in private?" His voice was low and haunting; his amber eyes held Arthur's, although the man did begin to blush a little.

Oh, yes..._everything_ was looking rosy...Arthur too turned red, but returned a small smile. He was _definitely_ ready to reenter the relationship market! The stranger was even more handsome than he'd remembered, especially without the glasses. A little younger than he'd originally thought, too. He hoped the man wasn't just looking for a quick – er –

"Er. Yes. I was just about to go on my break. We – we could go outside?"

The businessman nodded. Arthur led the way to a bus stop bench on the sidewalk. The two of them sat in the light from the street lamps, Arthur eagerly waiting for the man to begin speaking.

"My name is Lovino Vargas," he offered, extending a hand. Arthur shook it. It was a warm, strong hand…he began to get a little distracted, until he heard the man's next words. "I own Galleria Piccola."

Arthur dropped the man's hand in shock. He couldn't speak, just stared at the man – Mr. Vargas – and all he could think, crushed, was _No date tonight._

"I realize that I – er – behaved somewhat boorishly here the other night. I felt it might be uncomfortable for you to come work at the gallery and then find out I was the owner, if you were – were embarrassed by me – by my behavior. So I came by tonight to introduce myself to you. If – if you're, if it's too embarrassing for you to consider working for me, I…wanted to give you the opportunity to back out of the job. I – didn't want you to end up unemployed both here and at the gallery, just because of my—stupidity." Mr. Vargas looked off to the side.

Arthur tried to focus his thoughts. Mr. Vargas was clearly uneasy about this; perhaps he could reassure him? "I – I wouldn't back out of it. I've been wanting to work in the art field for a very long time. I'm – I'm very excited about this job, and don't consider that what happened here was any kind of a problem. Please don't worry about it."

Mr. Vargas blew out a noisy breath. "If you're certain - ?"

"Yes." Arthur's voice was determined. "If you're still willing to hire me, that is. I don't…don't want you to be uncomfortable, either." He hadn't considered this until just now. Maybe this was Mr. Vargas' way of getting rid of him? He began twisting his fingers together in his lap nervously, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I – I don't mind at all. I'm not involved much with the daily running of the gallery, so we probably won't –" Here Mr. Vargas interrupted himself and looked back at Arthur. "It's not a problem."

They sat together quietly for another minute.

"When do you start the new job?"

"Two weeks. I haven't given my notice here, yet."

"Please remember that if you change your mind at any time, I won't be offended." Here, the gallery owner handed Arthur his business card. "Just – just call me so I can make alternate arrangements, if you don't want to come work for me."

Arthur looked at him in the light from the street lamps. No, he wouldn't be refusing this job. He was just too optimistic about his future. He stood, extending his hand; his new employer rose also, and shook it. "Thank you for your candor, Mr. Vargas. I don't think I'll be changing my mind, but I will telephone you if I decide it's a problem. Will you – will you be at the gallery when I start work?" He held his breath, dropping the warm hand from his grip.

"I don't visit the gallery on a daily basis, but after you're settled I'll…come down and meet with you one slow afternoon."

"Thank you again. I do need to get back to my work now, though. Will you be – be staying for a meal, or for dessert?" Bollocks. He bit his tongue and blushed, hoping the street lamp wasn't bright enough to make it obvious.

"N-no. But there is something I need to ask you."

At that, Arthur's heart leapt again.

"I don't even know your name yet." He looked at Arthur apologetically. "I'm very sorry; I haven't – haven't completely caught up with all my paperwork. Please introduce yourself?"

_Oh. _"Forgive me. My name is Arthur Kirkland. Please – please call me Arthur." They shook hands again, and Mr. Vargas smiled at him weakly.

"Well, then, Arthur, welcome to the gallery. I'll see you in a few weeks?" He turned to leave.

"Yes," the blond breathed, watching him walk away, and then going back into the diner.


	8. Young Hare

**Young Hare. **(Albrecht Dürer, watercolor, 1502)

His new employee – _Arthur_, dammit – had been working at the gallery for two weeks now, concurrently with Ms. Taylor. But next week was her last week; Lovino really needed to get off his ass and get down to the gallery to make sure everything would be all right once she'd gone. He decided to run down there this afternoon. He'd been apprised of a case of grape blight affecting his vineyard; this had been irritating him all week. Lovino knew it wasn't quite sensible to go to his first meeting with Arthur in this sort of a mood, but he simply couldn't put it off any longer. He sighed. Maybe he'd sell the gallery _and_ the fucking winery.

By the time he arrived, it was late afternoon. There were two people browsing the artworks, and Arthur, dressed quite appropriately in a tan business suit, was attentively but not obtrusively standing by. That was a good sign. Lovino always worried that his employees would be too forward with the clientele, but Arthur seemed to be striking the right balance. Ms. Taylor, he could see, was in the office, on the telephone.

Lovino had worked hard all day to conquer his inexplicable agitation at the idea of speaking to Arthur, and he felt quite confident as he stepped up to him, extending his hand. "Doing well so far?"

"Yes," the blond smiled easily as they shook hands. "It's very enjoyable working here! Very different for me." Hmm. He really didn't seem troubled by the idea of working for Lovino, even after their strange conversation at the diner that night. That was a very good sign too.

"How busy has it been today?"

"A lot of browsers this morning, but this afternoon, just three or four people." Arthur indicated the two current customers with a subtle gesture. "Nothing too demanding."

"Very well. Let me speak with Ms. Taylor a moment, and then I'd like to – to speak to you." Dammit. Composure lost, he turned away and stalked into the office red-faced.

Ms. Taylor hung up the phone and greeted him. "How's our new manager?" he asked her.

"Very impressive! I made the right choice. Um – I mean, you made the right choice," she laughed. Lovino forced a laugh in response.

"I'd like to spend some time talking to him. You may take the rest of the day off; I'm sure between us we can handle whatever might happen."

Ms. Taylor smiled in appreciation, gathering her things, and they walked out into the main space together. "Thanks," she said, shaking his hand. "I'll see you later. Bye, Arthur." The blond merely nodded.

The sound of the closing door seemed to break one client's concentration, and he turned, smiling at the two men, and left the gallery as well.

Lovino and Arthur watched the remaining man browse the paintings. "How did you come to be interested in art?" the brunet asked quietly, hoping to learn more about his new employee.

"I've always loved creating things," Arthur admitted. "I've been painting for a long time now. But in England, I could never find anyone to buy my work; I suppose I grew up equating success with sales. When I moved – moved to Washington," he stammered, "er…I thought it might…er…open some doors for me." He blushed; Lovino looked at him curiously. "Forgive me. I'm not usually so tongue-tied."

"That's all right. You're new at the job, and we don't know each other well yet." Here, he felt himself turning red too, but tried to ignore it, looking back at the browsing client. "You haven't had much success in Washington, then, I take it? Since you were working at the diner?"

"Yes, that's right. I don't seem to have the – the personality to push myself forward and try to demand attention for my work."

"Perhaps –" No. Lovino stopped himself. It was much too soon to offer to display Arthur's work in the gallery. He settled for saying, "Some people are more self-effacing than others."

Arthur nodded. The last client left without looking at them.

"Do you mind if I close up for today? I'd like to speak with you a little more, but don't want to be interrupted." Dammit. Lovino fought not to roll his eyes at that inane comment.

And yet Arthur agreed. "Yes. I would like to know more about – about the gallery."

Lovino crossed to the door and locked it, then shucked off his suit jacket, throwing it carefully over the large cherry desk that stood in the corner. He rolled up his sleeves and sat in a guest chair. "Please sit down. Be comfortable."

Arthur took the other guest chair and removed his own suit jacket, flinging it on the desk.

"What kind of painting do you do? Oils, watercolor?"

"I like to work in watercolor; it's very soothing to me, but I actually get better results with the control of acrylics."

"Are you working on a project now?"

This seemingly innocent question of Lovino's had an almost alarming effect. Arthur turned very red and began fidgeting, looking down at the floor, and he finally choked out, "I – er – you – I, I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's fine," Lovino replied, worried about the young man. "Do you – are you all right? Do you want a drink of water?" He really was frighteningly red.

"No…thank you, Mr. Vargas. I'll be fine." Arthur closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, covering his face with one hand.

Perhaps he was painting a nude and didn't want his employer to know. This apparent innocence made Lovino smile a little. Then he wondered whether he should allow his newest employee to call him by his first name.

No. Not yet.

Arthur looked up, seeming composed again, and for a little while the two of them talked about various painters, styles, about Lovino's reasons for owning the gallery. He did not mention his other business ventures. Lovino really hated to advertise the fact of his wealth.

During their conversation he noticed that Arthur's eyes kept being drawn to something over his, Lovino's, shoulder. He even turned in his seat once to see what it might be, but there was nothing there. "Arthur, is – is something wrong?" he eventually asked, frowning gently. If his employee was troubled, it was his job to make sure everything was all right.

"I – er, no, but – er, do you have a tattoo?" Arthur blurted out. Then he covered his mouth with his hand, muttering apologies.

Lovino looked down distastefully at the same cheap shirt he kept meaning to get rid of. Yes, his dragon was clearly visible through the fabric. Dammit. "Yes, I do. It's a dragon. Why do you ask?"

"N-no real reason. I – it just seemed surprising for a businessman to have such a visible tattoo."

Lovino snorted. "Blame the cheap shirt." To calm Arthur down, he told him about how he'd chosen this particular design. He almost told him about his other tattoos, but when he felt his face burning, opted not to.

"I – I've always been curious about them. Does it hurt?"

"This one didn't hurt much," Lovino laughed, "but some of – some do. But if there's a design you really love, it's worth it. It is to me, anyway. I like the idea of being a living canvas." Here, he almost offered to take off his shirt and show the dragon to Arthur, before tensing up in panic. What the hell was he thinking?

And yet, dammit, he was having a quite enjoyable time talking to him. Not stressful at all…well, except for his bizarre blushing and panic attacks, which were all due to his own stupid brain; certainly Arthur's responses were innocuous enough.

It was well past the gallery's normal closing time, he now noticed. Lovino should let him go home, not keep him here at work all evening. Perhaps they could continue this discussion over dinner?

Argh, no, he was still being stupid. He should just let his employee go home for the day. Lovino stood and said as much. Arthur agreed so easily that Lovino was very glad he hadn't said anything more. They put their jackets back on; Arthur grabbed his briefcase, and they left together, locking up, after setting the alarms and pulling the blinds down.

"Where did you park? Did Ms. Taylor show you our spaces?"

"Oh, I…I rode the metro. I don't have a car yet." Here Arthur looked away.

Lovino supposed he should offer a ride home, but again, he didn't want to get into that. "Very well. Have a safe trip home. And Arthur - thank you for coming to work here. I think it will work out quite well." They shook hands again, both smiling a little; Lovino could feel himself reddening at the touch of the blond's cool hand, but forced himself not to jerk away. He nodded pleasantly, walked down the street to his car, and drove home.

What the hell. Maybe he'd keep the gallery.


	9. Arundel Mill and Castle

**Arundel Mill and Castle. **(John Constable, oil on canvas, 1835)

Arthur was feeling very good about things. Ms. Taylor had been gone for two weeks, and the gallery was doing well; he'd met Mr. Simonson, the man who helped with the displays, and when a new shipment containing a beautiful Constable landscape had arrived, they'd given it pride of place right opposite the front door.

He sighed happily today as he gazed on his new place of employment. Things did indeed seem to be settling down.

Just then the door burst open and Gilbert blew in, dressed in casual clothes. "Artie! Hey!"

Arthur was very thankful there were no clients here at the moment. "Gilbert!" he hissed. "Keep your voice down! Treat a gallery like a museum." He crossed to his friend.

"Kesesese," Gilbert managed in a stage whisper, "I don't see why. Are the paintings going to be damaged by sound waves? Ha ha. But all right," he went on, changing to his everyday voice. "How are you? Sorry I haven't had a chance to talk much, but how awesome is it that you got this job? I'm totally glad I wasn't too much of a wet blanket that day."

Arthur just laughed at his friend. "Everything's great. What are you doing here? Just visiting me?"

"Yeah, I wanted to see if you want to grab something to eat when you're done. I need to talk to you. What time do you get done?"

"Five o'clock." They both looked up at the gallery's art deco clock; it was now four-thirty.

"Mind if I hang around? I really have a lot of stuff to tell you about, but I'll save it until we're out of here." Gilbert flung himself into the chair behind the big desk. "Do whatever you need to do; it's totally cool with me."

Arthur looked at his friend strangely. "Why are you talking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Er – never mind. Anyway, at this time of day all I need to do is deal with any clients who come in, and then lock up securely when it's time to close up." He perched on the edge of the desk and they chatted quietly about nothing in particular while watching the clock.

At about ten to five, Mr. Vargas entered the gallery. Arthur hastily jumped off the desk – that was all he needed, for his new employer to find him slouching around the gallery socializing when he was supposed to be working! But Mr. Vargas hadn't even seemed to notice; instead, he was frowning at the albino in the desk chair.

"Good afternoon," Arthur said, coming to shake his hand. He probably didn't need to do this every time, but…

Mr. Vargas continued frowning. "Who's the man in the chair?" he asked, _sotto voce_.

"Oh, a friend of mine. We're going out to dinner after I'm done here, so he just came by to wait." Here, Arthur started to fidget. He hoped Mr. Vargas didn't think he was dating Gilbert.

But now Gilbert stood up and advanced towards them, hand extended towards the gallery owner. "You must be the owner of this beautiful place," he purred. "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Uh-oh.

While Mr. Vargas shook his hand and introduced himself, still frowning, Arthur began panicking. He knew that tone of voice; he'd heard Gilbert use it on countless people over the last year. The albino now had a dazed look on his face, eyebrows raised, although he was still smiling subtly.

But his employer was still frowning. "Excuse me a moment. I need to speak with Arthur." He must be really angry!

The blond dutifully followed him to the other side of the gallery, where they could speak without being overheard. Bollocks, he was going to get an earful for having Gilbert here, or for slacking off, or maybe Mr. Vargas was going to go out with Gilbert and get hurt…bloody hell…

"I need to go to Europe next week," Mr. Vargas said. "Will you be all right here?"

Arthur's thoughts were completely derailed. "I – there shouldn't really be any problems," he managed to say, blinking. "Everything has been going well. Are – are we expecting any new shipments to arrive during the time you'll be gone?"

"No, although I may try to source some works while I'm over there. But in any case they wouldn't arrive until after my return."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Just a week. I have to – well, I have some business in Italy and France." He looked at Arthur. "I can ask Ms. Taylor to be on call for you, if you think you'll need it. She's settled in her new job, but I don't suppose she'd mind the occasional phone call."

"I really don't think it would be necessary, but it can't hurt, if she's amenable."

"Very well. I'm leaving Saturday afternoon. Before I leave I'll drop by here with the contact numbers of my hotels, in case something does come up. And by the way…I don't appreciate the gallery being used as a social club." He sounded very irritated as he turned and saw Gilbert still reclining at the desk.

"Ah, ah – of course not; I completely understand. Gilbert simply dropped by to wish me luck and see my new place of employment. I'll make certain he understands that it's inappropriate to drop by for a visit."

Mr. Vargas was now staring at Gilbert, who was looking out the window and smiling softly. Arthur panicked again, but his employer merely turned and left, nodding at Gilbert on the way, pulling the door shut behind him.

Gilbert immediately jumped up and scurried over to his friend. "Man! That's your boss? Kesesese, no wonder you wanted to work here. He is hot_._ And he's Lovino Vargas, too! Why didn't you tell me? Why haven't you asked him out? You could totally be, like, a kept man, and not have to work at all anymore!"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur frowned at Gilbert, not sure whether to be amazed at his words about Mr. Vargas, or distracted by his bizarre language.

"You don't know? He's super rich! His dad was some big corporate player, and when he died it all went to Lovino."

Arthur didn't like to hear Gilbert casually bandying Mr. Vargas' first name around, but he let that slide to focus on the bigger picture. Bollocks. If the man was that wealthy, as well as – well, yes, Gilbert had hit the nail on the head – that _hot_, there was no way he'd ever be interested in someone like Arthur, an English nobody who'd been working as a bloody busboy when they'd met. Not to mention that getting involved with one's employer was a fairly well-known stupid idea...even though Arthur had continued to daydream about it every now and then…

"Hello? Hello?" Gilbert grinned and waved his hand in front of Arthur's face, snapping him out of this reverie. "Heh, now that you know all this, I bet you _do_ make a play for him! Well, not if I can get him first, Artie…"

"What? You never ask anybody out, you git. If you're going to wait around for him to ask you out, you're going to be waiting a very long time."

"Oh yeah. That's kind of what I want to talk to you about. Look, it's after five now. Close up and let's go."

Arthur was not only puzzled, but worried, by his friend's commentary, but he locked up, set the alarms, pulled down the blinds, turned off the lights and led Gilbert out through the back door, locking it behind them.


	10. Nighthawks

**Nighthawks. **(Edward Hopper, oil on canvas, 1942)

Arthur let himself be dragged down the street to the sleek two-seater Gilbert used during the work week. "Slow down, will you? Bloody hell, what is so important?"

"Where do you want to eat?" was Gilbert's response.

The blond thought about this. "Would you be angry if I said the diner? I'd like to see everybody…and of course there's the added enticement of – of cheesecake." He blushed at that, but Gilbert wasn't looking.

"Nah, that's all right," his friend laughed. "I want some of that awesome baklava! Let's go." He drove off.

"So, really…what is so important that you so desperately need to abduct me this way?"

"Can't you just wait? Wait until we're sitting at the table. I want to tell you from the beginning and don't want to interrupt for traffic lights or parking or whatever."

"Since when have you paid attention to traffic lights, git?"

Gilbert didn't rise to that.

While they drove to the diner Arthur thought about his friend's reaction to Lovino. Er. Mr. Vargas. The blond raked his hands through his already-scruffy hair and tried to focus. If he accidentally called his employer "Lovino" to his face, he'd be in big trouble, he knew.

So Gilbert had obviously been quite interested in the man. Had – had Lovino—Mr. Vargas—shown any reciprocal interest? Arthur, thinking back, couldn't be sure. He seriously hoped not. Gilbert's reputation was…well, he didn't want to see Mr. Vargas get hurt, that was all.

And yes, a tiny bit of him was extremely jealous at the idea, as well.

Well, he comforted himself, Gilbert never asked anyone for a date, so unless Mr. Vargas suddenly got a fancy for the albino, there probably wouldn't be a problem. And he didn't even know if Mr. Vargas was – was flexible that way, anyway. Maybe he only dated women. Bloody hell, maybe he was married? Arthur didn't know much about the man at all, but if Gilbert's assessment were true, then maybe…maybe there was something about him on the internet?

Arthur didn't want to be a stalker, but he now realized that if he could learn more about Lov—Mr. Vargas—by looking him up online, he'd do it. He wondered why this hadn't occurred to him before, especially after he'd gotten the business card that awkward night at the diner.

Gilbert finally pulled into the diner parking lot, breaking into Arthur's thoughts. "Come on, hurry up."

After Arthur had greeted his former co-workers and they'd been seated, Gilbert started fiddling with the salt and pepper pots. "So, listen."

Arthur listened.

"I…met a girl."

"Good for you, git. Gone out with her yet?" the blond asked, somewhat snarkily. Of course Gilbert had met a girl.

"Shut up. Please listen. She – she's absolutely beautiful; her name is Felicia. But she…works as a stripper."

Arthur burst out laughing.

"Don't. Just – don't."

This was uncharacteristic enough for the albino that Arthur squelched his laughter and leaned forward to listen more attentively. "Do go on. I'm sorry."

"She. I – uh…"

"You're in love with her?" This would be surprising. But no. He wouldn't have made such an obvious play for Lov—Mr. Vargas—if he were really in love with some girl.

"I – I totally don't know."

"Look. Before you tell me any more about this mysterious situation, tell me why you're suddenly littering your already-ungrammatical speech with the word 'totally' all the time! You sound _– totally_ _idiotic_," Arthur laughed.

"Have I been doing that?" Gilbert looked up and beamed at his friend. "That's something that Felicia likes to say! Cool!" He fiddled with the napkin. The waitress came and took their orders, ruffling Arthur's hair, interrupting, but when she'd gone, Gilbert picked up the conversation again. "She's so sexy and beautiful, Arthur. I turned down two dates so I could go see her."

"At – at the strip club?" He really had to fight not to laugh about all this, but he did know how to be polite.

"Yes," his friend muttered. "She doesn't strip all the way, you know, she's just one of the early evening dancers, comes out in sexy lingerie and stuff, does a little dance, and then goes away." He put his head in his hand and sighed.

"Sounds like she's really captivated you."

"Well…this is not the entire story," Gilbert admitted, playing with his cutlery.

"God, she's not married, is she?"

Gilbert looked at him in amazement and started cackling his loud laugh. "No, no, man, Artie, you are really funny."

"What? It was a perfectly valid question, wanker." Arthur got irritated and started fiddling with his own napkin.

"I also…I've also met a man."

"Not Mr. Vargas!" Arthur blurted out, horrified.

"No, no…although I do have to admit that's a _very_ tempting thought." Gilbert waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Arthur scowled at this, but Gilbert just laughed at him again. "Anyway, no…I met this guy, who works at Starbucks, and he's…really amazing."

"In love with him?"

"I – I don't know! It's all so frustrating!" Gilbert finally finished shredding a napkin and threw the pieces on the table. "Damn it, I don't know. I mean, obviously I'm not _in love _with either of them; I don't know them well enough yet. But I like them both a lot. Equally. I don't know what to do!"

"Have a threesome," Arthur suggested nastily. Gilbert threw a napkin at him and the waitress arrived with their food.

Gilbert shuffled his plate around a few times until she left, and then begged, "Be serious. Come on, this is almost like some kind of trauma for me! I don't know what to do about it."

"Well, all right, let's consider. On the one hand, we have a female fake-stripper, who is totally beautiful and sexy, and you've turned two people down for dates, so you could go watch her strip."

"Dance," Gilbert corrected.

"Fine. Dance. Have you gone out with her yet?"

"Well, no. I mean, we've talked after her shift, but always in the club, and – well, no. Not a real date."

That was surprising. Gilbert never wasted time. Maybe this really was serious.

"How often have you been frequenting strip clubs?" he finally thought to ask. "And is it a classy one?

"Don't be stupid, Artie. Some guy at work is getting married and we took him there, and yes, it's totally classy. I haven't been to a strip club in a long time, except for this business."

"Okay, so you haven't been on a date with her. Now, about this guy at Starbucks. Does he have a name?"

"Dunno." Gilbert started moping. "Can't work up my nerve to ask."

"You're joking!"

"No. See, the thing is, he…he looks a little bit like Felicia, blond, with green eyes, and I keep wondering if I'm only attracted to him because of that. I'm kind of scared to ask him out, in case it bursts my bubble. But we chat every time I go in, and he's really laid-back and cool."

"I have to admit blond with green eyes is the hottest combo," Arthur grinned, buffing his nails on his shirt. Before Gilbert could pelt him with anything else, he suggested, "Maybe they're the same person! Starbucks by day, cross-dressing stripper by night!" He started laughing about this so loudly that Gilbert kicked him under the table. "Ow."

"Shut up! Do you think I'm so stupid I couldn't tell the difference between a woman and a guy in drag? _Stripper _drag? Come on; help me figure out what to do."

"You're serious? I mean, I can't really _help_ you."

"You know what I mean."

"Well. Have you asked Felicia for a date?"

"Uh. Yes."

"She turned you down? Then ask out the guy from Starbucks."

"She didn't turn me down! She couldn't go, because she already had a date lined up. But…she said she'd go out with me some other time."

"Then I don't see the problem."

"Damn it. What if I want to go out with the Starbucks guy first?"

"I don't really see that this is any kind of a problem, Gilbert. You haven't even asked the guy what his name is. Just go out with your stripper—"

"Dancer—"

"—and have a good time! Maybe you really will fall in love." Arthur put his chin in his hand and gazed into the distance. Lucky Gilbert.

"I suppose that's about all I can do at this point, unless I work up my nerve to ask the coffee guy his name," Gilbert grumbled.

"I'm really surprised you have all this hesitation. Just do it."

"Yeah, yeah. All right. I hereby vow: before I see you again, I'll either go on a date with Felicia, or ask the Starbucks guy his name, or…have a threesome! Kesesese!"

Arthur was glad to see his friend seemed back to normal. They ordered dessert and had a pleasant conclusion to the meal.

And he was quite relieved that Gilbert seemed to have forgotten all about Mr. Vargas.

…

_Oh, dear, Gilbert..._

_I'm happy to see this story has so many hits and visitors already! Thank you for reading it._


	11. The Balcony

**The Balcony. **(Erté, serigraph, 1989)

Whew.

Lovino had successfully concluded the sale of the stupid blighted vineyard. This was a relief to him, even though he'd taken a bit of a loss on it. It meant one fewer destination on his quarterly business jaunts, and one less headache in general. He'd never really been fond of France anyway.

Tonight he was relaxing in the spacious, elegant home in Rome that he'd inherited. His cook was busy preparing a delicious meal for him and his friend Feliciano, who was coming to visit. They'd grown up together in Turin, almost as close as brothers, before Lovino's mother had remarried and they'd moved away. He and Feli had continued to be friends, and they always managed to get together when Lovino came back to Italy for business or pleasure.

"Ve, Lovino!" his friend called out, coming into the room behind the butler. "How are you?" The two friends embraced and Lovino drew back to look at Feli's beaming face.

"You look really great," he smiled. "Life must be agreeing with you."

"Oh, it is, it is," his auburn-haired friend grinned, flourishing a bottle of wine. "Here, have someone put this away for now. Come and sit! I want to talk!"

Lovino handed off the bottle to his butler with instructions to open it and let it breathe before dinner. Then he and Feli moved to the long couch and sat back to chat.

Feli was looking remarkably happy. "So what's happening to make you so happy? Break up with that potato eater yet?" Lovino laughed. "I've never understood how you could be happy dating a – a man," he finished weakly. Before Feli could respond, he went on to apologize for that rude comment.

"Don't worry about it, Lovi. Ludwig and I are still dating and we're very happy together. He's a very caring man in private, even though you may think he's cold and aloof in public. I'm quite happy. There's no need to worry."

Lovino nodded. As long as the bastard wasn't hurting Feli, or making him sad…

"So why are you in town, anyway, ve? You're not scheduled to be here until next month."

"Ah, I went to France to sell that fucking vineyard. It's afflicted with grape blight, and – well, it was just getting to be too much of a headache. Now that my gallery seems to be – to be finding its feet," he blushed, "I also thought I might bring some of my stepfather's artworks back to Washington."

"Oh, don't sell them! All these things are so lovely!" Feli glanced around the big parlor, which indeed had several beautiful artworks, paintings as well as sculptures, one or two of them famous masterpieces.

"I probably wouldn't sell them, idiot. I just want to bring some of them to my home, or – or the gallery. I – I like them, and it might make a difference to the – the people who come in, make it look nicer, a nicer place to be." He scrubbed his face with his hand. Dammit, why was he stammering like this? "And then…I'm also thinking of listing this house for sale. I don't really need this big place anymore, or the live-in staff. I can just stay at my hotel when I need to be in Italy."

Feli looked back at his friend in wonderment. "You're certainly thinking of a lot of life changes," he finally said. "Are you – what happened to make you decide all this?"

"Nothing happened, really," he said hotly; "I just – well, once I started thinking about selling the vineyard, it kind of led to all these other ideas."

"Well, you know what's best for you. How's your love life?"

"Ugh," was Lovino's knee-jerk reaction, and then the butler came back to announce that dinner was served.

The two friends dined elegantly, speaking of this and that. Lovino wondered idly what he'd say if Feli asked about his love life again. Well…it _was_ ugh. Or at least…bland. He hadn't gone on a date in so long he'd forgotten what it was like, trying to content himself with the occasional solitary relief. It seemed safer than suffering through another miserable date with some sweet young thing looking for a sugar daddy. He sighed. Then he shook his head and tried to focus on Feliciano's conversation.

After the meal, they took their drinks out onto the balcony into the warm Italian night. "But it sounds like you have everything under control, ve," Feli admitted. "I'm glad things seem to be shaping up for you. I was worried when you decided to try this bohemian existence instead of following in your stepfather's footsteps."

"Yeah, so was I, a little," Lovino admitted. "But it is turning out all right. I've – I've got a handle on everything, especially now that I sold that damn vineyard, and I'm hoping to focus more on running the gallery. It – it seems quite promising now."

"But I thought you had a very good lady working for you? She sold a lot of paintings and helped you with the receptions and things, right?"

"Yes, but she quit about a month ago." Had it really been that long? "I have a new manager there now, a…a young Englishman, an artist…" His voice drifted off, and he did not notice that Feli was looking at him attentively in the moonlight. "I think that…the – the vibe he brings to the gallery…will be different. He seems to be doing quite well, so far. I – I'm also thinking of relocating the gallery to a larger space."

Huh? When had he come up with that idea? But on the other hand, if he were going to take all his stepfather's artworks back, he'd need more space. Here, he became aware that Feli had been speaking to him.

"Sorry. What?" He rubbed his face to try and focus a little better.

"I said, you never told me how your love life is going! Well, other than 'ugh,'" he laughed.

Lovino's face flamed; he was thankful that Feli couldn't see this in the dark. "Well…'ugh' is about the long and short of it," he finally managed. "Haven't been on any dates, been – been too busy working."

"Not good, not good at all," was Feli's cheerful response.

Lovino playfully punched him in the arm. "Just because you're in seventh heaven doesn't mean you need to force everybody else to date," he laughed.

"But Lovi, I really do want you to be happy. You've had so much success and luck in your life…it's like love is the only thing left you need!"

"Chigi! I'm happy enough, for now," he snapped, and realized that was mostly true. Sort of. He softened his voice. "Come on, let's go back in; I'm getting cold."

They went back into the house. "Which paintings will you be taking?"

"Don't know yet. Are there any you want?"

"Don't be silly, Lovino! I can't afford to buy any of these."

Lovino looked at his friend with a frown and then surprised him by giving him a big hug. "Stupid. I wouldn't make you pay for them. I meant, pick one or two as a gift. If I'm going to sell the house, I'm going to need to make sure these things get to a good home…and I can't think of anybody who would care for them more than you would." Well…he, Lovino, would, of course…and maybe – maybe Arthur…? He cleared his throat and released his friend.

"That's very gracious of you! Thanks, ve. I know! Why don't we walk around the house, like a tour? Then you can see what might need to be done before you sell it, and we can look at all the beautiful art, and then – if you were serious – I could pick out a little something?"

"Of course I was serious, you idiot. That's a really good idea, too. I'd like to look at some of these things as – as an artist might see them. It might make a difference, whether I want to keep or sell them later." He bit his lip.

"Then let's tour your beautiful house!" Feli grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hallway, and the two friends spent a pleasant remainder of the evening appraising all the artwork in his stepfather's house.


	12. Song of the Telegraph

**Song of the Telegraph.** (Charles Burchfield, ink, crayon, pencil and wash on paper, 1952)

Lovino had been pacing around the house all day, checking the clock, unable to settle…waiting for the time when it would be business hours in Washington and he could telephone Arthur at the gallery. He wanted to let him know that he was sending a large shipment of art back, and, well, he just wanted to make sure everything was all right. He really should have checked earlier, but between the travel, the art appraisals, and arranging for the insured shipments, this trip had been mostly a frenzy. He'd be flying home tomorrow, and was glad of it. Several hours of sleep in first class would ensure he was well-rested before arriving.

Ah, it was now ten o'clock in Washington. But perhaps he shouldn't call yet; should let Arthur get in to the gallery and set up for the day, before interrupting him. He paced a little more, thinking about his dinner with Feli and how nice it had been to see his old friend again. Lovino did plan to come back on his regularly-scheduled trip next month; at that point he'd be visiting the race works and the hotel as usual, as well as contacting the proper people about selling the house. The servants had been sorry to hear of his decision, but with the promise of generous (exceedingly generous) compensation and excellent references, they'd all been content with the advance notice.

He paced a little more…and then decided the hell with it, he'd just call now. If the gallery wasn't yet open, Arthur could wait and open it later. He picked up his cell phone and dialed.

"Galleria Piccola," Arthur's elegantly-accented voice came over the phone. Lovino was filled with a rush of relief. So at least the gallery was still standing, and Arthur sounded perfectly normal…he guessed there were no problems, then.

"Hello?" Arthur's voice said again, recalling him to himself.

"Forgive me, Arthur, it's me, Lovino. Vargas." He pinched the bridge of his nose; what an idiot he sounded like, dammit. As if there were a lot of people with that stupid first name.

"Oh! Are you back in town?"

"N-no, I'm telephoning from Rome. I – I just wanted to check and see whether everything was going well, or if there were any problems?" He held his breath.

"No problems at all." Arthur's voice was warm. "We sold some things this week, so there are a couple of bare spaces, but other than that, it's been fairly standard. How – how has your trip been, so far?"

"Nh, not bad; I did accomplish everything I set out to do. I wanted to let you know I'm sending home a few crates of artworks, not just paintings but some sculptures, too, which I want to display in the gallery; I'm not sure whether I want to sell them or not, though. They'll be sent directly there, but because of the weight and insurance risks, they're being shipped freight, which means it will probably be several weeks before they arrive."

"That's exciting! I always love to see new art. Will we have enough room for them all?"

"Well, I'm not certain. This is something else I wanted to talk to you about." He hadn't, really, at least not yet, but since Arthur had brought it up…"I'm thinking of moving the gallery to a larger space."

"Oh. Well, that would be good for business, if it were in the right area, but…if it's too big, you might need to hire more people? I – I'll do my best, but…I don't have any management experience at all." He sounded very timid.

But it was a good point. Lovino hadn't considered that. "Well, don't worry about it now; it's just an idea I had the other night. I do like the current location, though, so maybe I'll just sell some of these privately, or store them at home and bring them in as we need to fill space."

There was a pause at both ends for a moment. Dammit, he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"W-was there anything else?" Arthur finally asked.

"No, dammit. Er – well, no. Listen, my flight leaves in a couple of hours; I need to pack. I'll come down on Monday and you can fill me in, all right?" He felt himself blushing a little. "Take care, Arthur, I'll see you next week."

"Have a safe flight!"

After he hung up the phone, Lovino drew a deep breath, smiling a little. He was very glad nothing had gone wrong in his absence.

…

_I do love Burchfield. My favorite artist ever, hands down, at least his nature paintings. _


	13. Broadway Boogie Woogie

**Broadway Boogie-Woogie. **(Piet Mondrian, oil on canvas, 1943)

Monday Lovino went to his office early, to catch up with everything that had happened in his absence. He didn't use a personal secretary; with his businesses pared down as much as they'd been, he didn't really feel it was necessary. He'd always been able to manage his daily business affairs without the extra burden of another employee.

Now that the vineyard was off his plate, he had to deal with some daily things from the publishing house, but the hotel and race firm were holding steady. He worked through lunch, hoping to plow through all this before heading down to the gallery to talk to Arthur.

At about three-thirty, he decided he'd done enough. After flicking through his calendar entries for the next month, he looked at a few different dates, marked them, and left.

Lovino's jaw dropped when he walked into the gallery. Where were all the paintings? Arthur came out from the office at the sound of the door, and smiled at him nervously as he came to shake hands. Well, he ought to be nervous, if something had happened. "What the hell's been going on around here?" he barked, dropping Arthur's hand.

"What? What do you mean?" Arthur looked quite flummoxed and began to blush a little.

"Where the fuck are all the paintings?" Normally he wouldn't have been so terse, but he'd had a long day, and he'd noted the absence of clients when he walked in, so he didn't bother to moderate his language.

"Oh!" Arthur began to smile at him, and now it was Lovino's turn to be perplexed. "I told you, we sold a lot."

Lovino could feel his eyes widening so much they hurt. He turned away from Arthur and looked at the space; where there had been perhaps thirty paintings and seven or eight sculptures, at least a third of each were missing. "You – you sold all those?" Dammit. This guy definitely was the right choice. Unless – "For how much?"

Arthur laughed cheerfully, his composure apparently regained. "For the listed price, of course." He went on to detail the various transactions that had taken place in the last week.

Lovino really was floored. "It's a good thing I'm bringing the new things over," he admitted, blowing out a sigh. "Good work. Excellent work." Arthur smiled at him again.

"Everything else has been rather normal," the blond added.

"Good. Listen, I – when these new artworks get here, they're going to be delivered to the gallery, instead of to my home, because the security is better here; we have the vault if there's not enough space to display them all. I want to try to get them unpacked and set up after hours, so we're not creating too much of a distraction to clients during the day. Will you – will you be able to stay late one evening to help with it? Ordinarily I'd rope in Mr. Simonson," he went on in a rush, "but I thought you might – might prefer to see the new items first, before they were on display; you might have a better idea of how best to showcase them." Here, he looked back, and Arthur was looking at him with a very sweet expression, which surprised him.

"That's very thoughtful of you. I'd like that very much, and of course I'll have the free time." He looked at the bare walls. "But you said they wouldn't get here for several weeks, right?"

Lovino nodded. "They shipped from Rome on Saturday, but freight ships are slow. They'll have to go through customs when they get to New York, and then be trucked down here."

Arthur turned and looked critically at the walls again, still with that soft expression on his face. "What will we do until then? I'd thought of rearranging things so that the bare space was all in the back, but I didn't want to do that without your permission." He turned back to his employer.

"That's actually a pretty good idea. I know there are a few things in the vault we can bring out, too. We could work on that now – hm, except I still don't want to be disrupting customers."

"I don't mind working late tonight," Arthur offered. "I have no particular plans."

How could someone as attractive as Arthur not have plans? Then Lovino remembered he'd thought the same thing on the very first night he'd seen Arthur, at the diner, and that, of course, led him to think about the other diner experience, which he'd thought he'd put out of his head…dammit! He put a hand over his face to conceal the rising blush he could feel, and turned away.

"Mr. Vargas?" Arthur asked. "Are you all right?"

This was effective as a distraction. "I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back." He stormed into the office and picked up the telephone, not even knowing whom he was going to call.

Randomly, he dialed the number of Morton's, and made an early reservation for two for this evening. Half his brain was screaming _what the hell are you thinking_ and the other half was trying to tell him that dinner with Arthur was a bad idea and another half was telling him that if it was a problem he could just ignore the reservation, and then he realized that was too many halves, so he shut down the "what the hell are you thinking" portion and slammed down the phone. He took a moment to get a cup of water from the cooler in the office, and then also shut away the "dinner with Arthur was a bad idea" half. If it was, then…he'd find out soon enough. He tried to focus and went back out to the main display area. Arthur was still standing by; one customer had come in and was feebly wandering around the denuded displays.

Lovino raked a hand through his hair in irritation. "Listen, if you really don't have plans tonight, then – uh – we could go get something to eat, together, somewhere, and then come back here to work?" Dammit, he felt like an idiot again. "I mean, that way we wouldn't be disturbing any potential customers, and we'd – we wouldn't be working on an empty stomach. I haven't eaten since breakfast," he lied, and the "what the hell are you thinking" part of his brain came bursting back out with a loud clatter that he was sure Arthur could hear.

"Yes, of course. And I'd love to hear about your trip, too, sir, if it's not going to bore you to tell me about it."

"Did – did you just call me 'sir'?" Lovino asked incredulously.

"Uh…did I? I don't remember."

"Well, don't. Just – " Oh, what the hell, he was doing all kinds of stupid stuff tonight, one more wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. "Just call me Lovino, all right? Not 'sir' and not 'Mr. Vargas.' That always makes me feel like an old man." He put his hands on his hips and glared at the walls.

"I'll – I'll try, Mr. – er – Lovino."

The way he said it sounded so defiant that Lovino had to fight not to burst out laughing. "So – so what are we doing tonight?" He turned back to face the blond.

"Everything you said sounds fine. There's only a half hour left before closing time, then we can go eat, and then come back and rearrange everything?" Arthur seemed quite amenable to the plan.

Lovino shoved the "what the hell are you thinking" triumphantly back into its box and slammed the lid, smiling weakly at his employee. "Fine. I'm going to use the office for a little while; if I don't come out before you lock up, come get me. Sometimes I get very distracted by my work."

"Will do," Arthur agreed.

Lovino walked to the office and sat down behind the desk. Then he got up and drank another cup of water from the cooler. Huh, this water was terrible. He'd put in a refrigerator, and then they could have some quality bottled water around on a regular basis. He sat down, put on his glasses, and made a note of that in the little notebook he always carried in his breast pocket.

After fiddling with his pen for a while, he pulled over the desk calendar and checked it against those dates he'd noted when in his main office. Lovino marked all three dates with a little question mark. He'd need to talk to Arthur about that later, possibly over dinner.

Lovino looked up through the glass panels and saw the customer and Arthur talking. He really ought to take some time to work out what disturbed him – well, not really disturbed, but…why he kept acting so stupid around Arthur.

He tried to think about it objectively, doodling in his little notebook. The only thing he could think of was that Arthur's good looks were throwing him for a loop. But Lovino had dealt with countless attractive people in his life and that hadn't ever happened to him before. So…there was really no reason to keep acting like an idiot, dammit. He therefore resolved to stop acting like one.

He wondered again about Arthur's social life…or apparent lack of it…thinking back to that self-centered albino and his obvious ploy when they'd met. He'd seen the recognition flicker in the crimson eyes when he'd offered his name; he'd learned to look for that years ago. Idly he wondered whether Arthur was dating the albino. For some reason this made him intensely angry. Such an egotist wasn't good enough for the blond.

And then he wondered why he was thinking about Arthur dating a man. Why had he automatically jumped to such a conclusion? Ah, probably just because he'd just seen Feli and they'd talked about him dating the potato bastard.

Just then Arthur knocked on the office door and Lovino jumped, flushing, and the "what the hell are you thinking" popped back out and started jeering and waving little flags. He slammed his hand down on the desk, rising, and asked, "Closing time?"

Arthur agreed, looking a little nervous at that outburst.

"Don't mind me," Lovino muttered. "I've got a lot on my mind." Didn't he just. The two of them set the alarms and exited out the back.


	14. Eventails

**Eventails (Fans).** (Georges Barbier, pochoir [stencil] print, 1924)

They walked to Lovino's car. "Bloody hell, a Spitfire," Arthur said reverently, stroking the hood.

Lovino grinned at him. "You recognize it? Surprising."

"Well, they are British, you know." They got in and Lovino drove off.

"I like cars. I like to keep them in good condition, and looking good as well. Keeps the resale value up, though I don't think I'd ever sell this one. I've had it for a long time, and put a lot of love into it over the years."

They drove in silence for a little while after that; Lovino seemed to have a specific destination in mind, but it was somewhat distant from the gallery. They were almost out of the city. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked timidly. Perhaps he shouldn't have agreed to this.

"I made reservations at Morton's in Tysons Corner. It's generally a little less busy during the week than the downtown one."

"I'm not familiar with it. What kind of restaurant is it?"

"A steakhouse."

Arthur nodded. "Good, I like steak."

The Spitfire's engine was a little noisy, so they didn't talk much for the rest of the drive.

…

Arthur got nervous again when they entered the restaurant. This was a very elegant place. They were seated along one wall; the staff were acting deferential, but he couldn't tell whether they recognized Mr. Vargas—_Lovino,_ he thought in relief, smiling a little—or because they did that with everyone.

At first their conversation was understandably stilted. Arthur felt shy dining with his manager, whom he was still so fiercely attracted to. He let his mind wander, just a little, wondering how different this meal might be if they were actually out on a date. And then he realized he'd missed an entire swath of conversation, and blushed, dropping the fork he'd been fiddling with.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vargas," he muttered, smoothing out the napkin on his lap. "I was daydreaming."

"I thought I told you to call me Lovino." Mr.—Lovino smiled at him a little. "But if that makes you uncomfortable, then, please, go on calling me Mr. Vargas. Whatever works for you."

Arthur looked him right in the eye before beginning to speak. "It's – it's not a problem for me…Lovino. I – I'm glad you trust me enough to let me have that privilege." He continued to hold the amber gaze.

"It's not a privilege, it's just – dammit, it's just the way it is, all right?"

Bollocks, now he was angry. It was just as well this wasn't a date. Arthur was screwing everything up. He took a deep breath and plumped for honesty. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous; I've never dined in a place as elegant as this one, and I'm also nervous about being out socially with you, because I – because you're my employer."

"I can't help you with any nervousness about the restaurant. But you really don't need to be nervous around me. I'm a pretty laid-back kind of employer."

"Well, that's easy enough to say_,_" Arthur countered, coaxing a little smile from the dark-haired man.

"I'll grant you that. Is – is there anything I can do to put you more at ease?"

He seemed so genuinely concerned that Arthur was touched. "I don't really know. Perhaps if we – we spend more time together, it will get easier?" Bollocks! Where the hell had that come from? He bit his tongue. Arthur wanted to sink his reddening face down onto the plate and never lift it again. What a crude suggestion. Crude and obvious.

And yet – "I'm sure we will be spending more time together, at least – at least once these new artworks arrive." Was he blushing? This was intriguing enough to Arthur that he forgot his nerves for the moment, and concentrated on his dinner companion. Yes. Lovino was blushing a little. And bloody hell, he looked even more attractive that way.

Arthur sought for an innocuous topic. "Do you visit galleries in Europe? Is that where you got them?"

Lovino looked a little unnerved himself, at that question, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Some of them are from galleries," he finally conceded, but didn't go further with that. Arthur felt as though he'd asked a very wrong question, but couldn't guess why.

After a few minutes of perplexed silence on both sides of the table, Lovino rubbed his hand over his face. "Forgive me. Maybe I'm still jet-lagged. I'm not being a very good conversationalist tonight, I know. But - but there was something else I wanted to discuss with you."

Arthur sat up attentively as the waiter brought their meals, and after he'd left, Lovino began to discuss the gallery again. "Ms. Taylor told you about the receptions I sometimes hold?" Arthur nodded. "After we get the new items displayed to our satisfaction, I want to have another one. Of course I want you to be there as well." Lovino then cleared his throat and looked away before continuing. "They are formal events; do you have a tuxedo?"

"No. I – I've never had the need for one. But that's not a problem. There are plenty of tuxedo rental places around."

Lovino looked appalled. "No, no, no. Absolutely not. I won't have you standing around in a shabby rental tuxedo that won't fit right and has been worn by a hundred other men." He looked down at his plate briefly, then back at Arthur, who was frowning. What other option did he have? "I'll send you to my personal tailor. At least then I know you'll look – uh – properly attired."

Arthur's voice was meek as he pointed out that he probably couldn't yet afford a custom-tailored tuxedo.

"Never mind that," Lovino snapped. "I'll consider it a business expense, all right? You won't have to deal with any money. You just go and get it all done right, and I'll have them send the bill to me directly. All right?" He looked slightly irritated.

"Well – yes, thank you," Arthur managed. Bloody hell, Lovino always seemed to slide into anger so easily. But he didn't want to think about that now. "When will the reception be held?" He thought this might be a bland topic that would help them both calm down.

Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then fixed it again. "I chose three possible dates, assuming the shipment isn't delayed. I marked them on your desk calendar; take a look when you get back and tell me if any of them are a problem. These have to be small receptions – due to the size of the place – so what I'll need you to do is go back through the records and find the six people who have spent the most money with us in the last, oh, six months. We'll invite each of them and a guest." He paused again, staring at his empty wine glass, and then without looking up said, "You – you may bring a date, too, if you like."

Arthur didn't like that idea, and said so. "If I've got a – date – to worry about, I probably won't be able to concentrate on the other guests properly. Besides, I'm not dating anyone anyway." Bloody hell. He bit his lip. Why had he offered that? Well, of course he knew why. He wanted Lovino to know he was unattached, in case – in case –

"That's fine too." Lovino looked up with a little smile, but his face was still red. "Whatever makes you most comfortable."

Arthur really wanted to know if Lovino would be bringing a date, but didn't trust himself to ask right now. Maybe later.

"How's your painting going?"

Arthur, who had in fact continued to struggle with his diner painting to the exclusion of almost every other project, blushed and stammered as he avoided looking at that painting's subject. Lovino looked at him with deep concern – _bloody hell _– and Arthur closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and held his hand up weakly. "I – I would still rather not discuss it," he finally managed to say.

"That's fine, of course. I – I'll stop asking you about it, then. Are you all right? Have a drink of water."

Arthur did so, feeling like a fool.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing this and that; Arthur was quite surprised that they didn't feel the need to discuss art, or work, the whole time. He was beginning to feel much more at ease – both in the restaurant and conversing with Lovino – by the time the delicious meal was over. Lovino paid the bill and they walked back out to his car.

"I'll drop you at home, if you tell me where you live," his employer offered.

Arthur stared at him.

"What? Surely you didn't think I'd make you find your way home alone from Tysons Corner?"

"I thought we were going back to rearrange the gallery!" Arthur blurted out. Oh dear…yelling at his boss…

Lovino's eyes widened and he pressed his lips together before turning his back to Arthur. The blond could see him taking a few deep breaths, and rubbing his hand over his face (this seemed to be a habit of his) before he turned back. "Sorry," he said gruffly. "I forgot. Get in the car."

They got in the car. At this point Arthur decided he'd been acting like an oaf most of the evening, and resolved to keep his mouth shut. Apparently Lovino was lost in thought, too.

They were about halfway back to the gallery before his employer said anything. "I really am sorry. I was so relaxed by our – our conversation that I forgot all about that." His voice was low and calm.

That was surprising, although quite nice to hear. "I'm sorry too. I'm not normally so – so tense, I suppose."

"Please don't be tense around me, dammit. I'm just a person, like everyone else."

"Yes, I know," he sighed. "I'll get over it, sooner or later."

"Try to make it sooner rather than later_._" The blond looked over, and Lovino was smiling at him with his eyebrows raised. "Just relax and be yourself. Please?"

"I'll do my best. Thanks for being so understanding."

"Cheh, it's not a problem."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Arthur cast surreptitious glances at the brunet. He did need to get over this. If he kept stammering and acting like a git – or yelling at him – things were going to go very badly indeed. He didn't want Lovino to think he'd hired some inept fool to run his gallery. Arthur metaphorically squared his shoulders and resolved to be more reasonable about all this.

He would get over this, blast it.

…

_Basically I just want an excuse to get Arthur into a tux._

_I hope some of you are getting interested in looking up the artworks in the chapter titles. It's getting easier to create a chapter theme now._


	15. Volpone Adoring his Treasures

**Volpone Adoring his Treasures.** (Aubrey Beardsley, pen, ink and pencil, 1898)

When they got back to the gallery Lovino immediately took off his suit jacket and threw it on the desk. "This shouldn't take too long," he realized, hands on hips, shaking his head. "That was stupid. We probably could have gotten it done right after we closed. Sorry, I should have thought about that more." He felt himself blushing, but luckily Arthur was busy removing his own suit jacket, not looking at him.

"Well, going to Morton's was a very nice experience for me, very…different," the blond offered, still fiddling with his jacket. "Thank you for taking me there. Plus I, er, well, it's always helpful to spend social time with the people you work with." This in a rather vague tone; Lovino looked at him curiously, but he was smoothing out his jacket on the desktop. He supposed Arthur was still feeling tense; he hoped the blond had at least enjoyed it a _little_. Lovino moved to open the vault and bring out the stored items.

They got to work right away, clearing out the entire vault to fill in the empty spaces. It did only take about an hour to get everything arranged to Lovino's satisfaction. Arthur put forth several useful comments about the best placement of paintings. This impressed Lovino, who had still been working on his artistic analysis, and mostly feeling that he was failing. He could see that what Arthur was suggesting was good, but he couldn't quite understand why. Still, he was thankful for his employee's eye for composition, and said so.

Arthur blushed a little and smiled. "Thanks. I guess it's just a talent some people have and some don't." Lovino just nodded, shrugging, but Arthur turned bright red and covered his mouth with his hand. "Oops."

"Oops what?"

"Uh, well, I – well, nothing, I guess!" The blond was looking at him strangely.

Lovino frowned and turned away. Why would Arthur have thought that comment was inappropriate? It was completely true. "So we're all done here?"

"Yes, except for locking up."

"Do you want a ride home?" Lovino felt as though he and Arthur had reached some kind of interesting – well, _relationship_ level, be honest – where they were more than employer and employee, but still less than friends. He didn't feel uncomfortable offering the ride.

Apparently Arthur didn't feel uncomfortable accepting it, either. "Yes, please. It's always so noisy on the metro at night."

Well, that was good. A start, anyway.

After they locked up and left, Lovino followed Arthur's directions and dropped him off outside his apartment building. Hm, looked like a nice place, a newer high-rise in a good area. That was reassuring to know. He wondered idly whether the blond had always lived here, or only moved here after he took the gallery job, but he didn't want to ask while Arthur was still acting so skittish. He could ask later, if it really mattered.

Arthur, upon exiting the car, thanked him again for dinner. He looked like he was going to shake Lovino's hand, but then drew back shyly. "I'll – see you soon?"

"Sure," he replied easily, trying to be offhand about it. "I'll probably stop by this week sometime."

"See you then. Good night."

Lovino smiled slightly and drove off. Dammit, he really wanted Arthur to be less tense around him. He spent most of the drive home trying to think about how to achieve that. There had to be a way.


	16. Young Man Intrigued by the Flight of

**Young Man Intrigued by the Flight of a Non-Euclidean Fly. **(Max Ernst, drip painting, 1942)

Three weeks later Lovino came storming into the gallery one afternoon, teeth clenched, face red, waving a sheet of paper in Arthur's face. When he realized there were clients present, he stopped, growled inarticulately, and raked a hand through his hair, then absently smoothed it down again. How could Arthur have been _so fucking stupid_?

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"Grr. Just – just – I'm going into the office. I can't talk about it with clients here, dammit." Lovino took his paper and stomped back into the office. _Dammit_. He paced back and forth in the confined space, frustrated and not knowing what to do about it. The gallery wasn't scheduled to close for another two hours, and he didn't want to be standing here pacing the entire time. But he didn't want to kick out the clients, either, or leave and come back again later.

Lovino slammed the paper down on the desk and punched the wall. He knew Arthur was going to be nervous at this behavior, but he _should be nervous!_ Fuck! No, he had to address this now, clients or no clients. He stalked back into the front, only to find both the customers had left. Arthur was alone in the front.

"Lock up and set the alarm," he snarled. "We're done here for the day. Then come to the office." He knew his voice was rough, angry, but – fucking _twenty-two thousand dollars_? Dammit, he could feel his rage spiking again as he went back into the office. He continued pacing and growling and scrubbing his hands through his hair, then fixing it, until Arthur walked into the little room.

"Wh-what's—"

Lovino didn't let him finish, just picked up the piece of paper and flapped it angrily in Arthur's face. "You took a _check?_ You took a _personal check_ from an unknown customer for _twenty-two thousand dollars_?" His voice rose to a squeak, but he didn't even care.

Arthur's face went ashen. "Oh…don't tell me…" he whispered.

"I probably don't _have_ to tell you. You can probably _guess_ what happened, since I'm here, and I'm _really fucking angry!"_ Lovino didn't care anymore; he knew he was pushing the bounds of reasonable employer behavior, but this had been a colossally stupid move on Arthur's part.

But to his surprise Arthur was looking fierce. "Nobody told me not to take a check!" he yelled back. "You didn't, and Ms. Taylor didn't! Bloody hell, there were check deposit forms in the file cabinet! How should I have known it wasn't the right thing to do?" He glared at Lovino, almost crazily…and then seemed to realize what he'd just done, and sank into the office chair, head in hands, elbows on the desk.

His outburst had taken the wind out of Lovino's sails, though. Uh. Perhaps…it really hadn't been fair of him to place all the blame on Arthur. He knew _he'd_ never mentioned anything about payments.

On the other hand, it was sort of common sense not to take a check for that amount of money, unless it was a customer they'd done a lot of repeat business with…and this wasn't. Lovino hadn't recognized the name; he'd checked the computer, and this had been the man's first transaction with them.

He dithered for another full minute, as he watched Arthur sink his head and arms all the way down onto the desk. Then he stepped a little closer and hesitantly put out his fingertips to touch his shoulder. Arthur looked up, still very angry, with unshed tears glinting in his eyes. Dammit. Lovino now realized he'd approached this in a completely wrong way. He really didn't want to lose Arthur over this. And…he had to be honest…financially, $22,000 was a drop in the bucket for him. The only thing that really galled him about it by now was that the pseudo-client had made off with three paintings. He took a deep breath, but had to look away from Arthur's angry, accusing face.

"I'm – I'm sorry," he offered in a broken voice, looking out the window, removing his touch from Arthur's shoulder. "You – you're absolutely right; I was hasty, and I…let my fucking temper run away with me again." He took another deep breath. "I'll…consider this matter…closed…just don't take any more checks, all right?"

"You're not – not going to fire me?" Arthur asked, dashing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and looking away.

"What? No. It – it was just a – a mistake." But then Lovino considered this. Maybe Arthur didn't like it here? He asked him this question point-blank.

"What? I'm – I'm quite happy here," he replied, still with a trace of defiance in his voice. "I'm sorry, too; it's extremely bad form to yell at one's employer." He put his head in his hands again.

"I don't mind _that_ a bit, dammit. I know how difficult it can be to keep a lid on anger." It was true. It had actually been kind of – of _refreshing,_ to hear Arthur yelling back at him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had yelled back, not even Feli, who liked to throw tantrums at the drop of a hat.

Here he became aware that Arthur was looking at him in amazement. "You really don't mind? But I – I was so –"

"So was I," was his only response, and the two of them stayed quiet together for another minute. "Listen, Arthur." Lovino hesitated again but then put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Do you want to keep working here or not? Either way. If – if you really want to leave me, I'll provide you with good references." Here, he withdrew his hand again, still not sure whether it was appropriate or not. Lovino leaned back against the wall, keeping his eyes on Arthur, who was still, obviously, uncomfortable. Well, so was he. He really _didn't_ want Arthur to go. "If you want to stay, I'll – I'll do my best to be…more reasonable. I'm sorry about that outburst."

"I already told you I want to stay." He still sounded somewhat defiant, and wouldn't meet Lovino's eyes.

"Well, then…let's just draw a line under this incident and go forward from here. Is that all right with you?" He raked his hand through his hair again, not even caring any more whether it was sticking up or not.

"But – but the money - ?" Arthur finally turned and looked up at Lovino in shock.

The brunet blew out a breath. "Don't worry about it. First of all, there's always the possibility that the guy was legit, and just had some funny things happen with his bank account. Failing that, I can probably get it back in insurance money, at least part of it. I'll call the bank tomorrow and see what I can find out." He wasn't about to trivialize the issue by telling Arthur just how unimportant the money was.

"You're serious!"

"Yes, I'm serious. I – I value you…as a – a – an employee. I don't want this to remain an issue between us."

Arthur stood up. "Thank you. It's – very gracious of you to take this stance."

Lovino snorted. "I don't think anyone's ever called me _gracious_ before in my entire life. Thanks." He tried to smile at his employee. "Since you locked up already, feel free to take the rest of the day off."

"I don't mind. But – you're certain we're all right with this?"

"I'm certain. Are you?"

"Yes," Arthur said firmly, extending his hand, and they shook on it. Lovino allowed himself to take a deep, relaxing breath, and let the blond's cool hand slip from his grasp.

They walked out and locked the door behind them. "Do you need a ride home? Or anywhere else?"

"I – I think I'd rather take the metro home, or walk. I'd like to calm down a little."

"All right. I'll see you later." Lovino walked to his car, feeling a lot calmer than he'd been when he'd parked it. When he looked back, Arthur was already out of sight. He hoped he and his stupid temper hadn't done too much damage to their relationship.

…

_Oh, Lovino. Feli called you 'gracious' back in chapter 11._


	17. Willem Coymans

**Willem Coymans.** (Frans Hals, oil on canvas, 1645)

"Oi, Gilbert, let's go out to eat tonight, or something. I'm bored and I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Yes! I have to talk to you, Artie, you're not going to believe it, but I still need help. Where should I pick you up? At the gallery? Is your boss there?"

"No, he's not here, and yes, you can pick me up. He's in Italy this week."

"Ha, no wonder you're bored, without that enticement around."

Arthur raked a hand through his scruffy hair. "Shut it, wanker, and come pick me up at five."

"All right, I'll see you then!"

After he hung up, Arthur started thinking about Lovino again. Things had been awkward between them for about a week after that horrific scene about the personal check. Arthur still shuddered when he thought of how bloody _brainless_ he'd been about that, but at least they'd ultimately gotten the money from the client. He'd seen that Lovino was going out of his way to be unusually calm and nice to him, to smooth over the whole incident. Arthur, for his part, made an extra effort to be more attentive and appreciative of his employer's efforts. He was bloody lucky to have such an understanding boss. And after that first uneasy week, things had settled back to normal.

No, not even normal. Better than normal. Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was almost as though they were starting to become friends. They hadn't socialized together after their dinner at Morton's, but – well, it _wasn't_ his imagination, Lovino had definitely been dropping by the gallery more often, and their easy conversations had trended away from work and more towards generic topics. Arthur was not at all nervous around him anymore as he'd been at dinner that night. And Lovino seemed to be treating him more like an equal, and less like an employee, which was fun. He supposed it might be difficult for him to find people that he could relax around.

Arthur had learned that these European business trips were something Lovino had to attend to quarterly. He wondered how it would be to travel so much. He himself had traveled a lot while living in London, of course, but flying across the Atlantic four times a year seemed very draining. But Lovino always touched base with him on the phone when he was away, and…he liked that, too.

A client came in, interrupting his musings. He turned his focus to his work.

…

They'd defaulted to the diner again.

"So what's all this news, git? Dating your stripper yet?" They put ketchup on their fries and began to eat.

"Yes." Gilbert raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"See, I told you it wouldn't be too hard. Having a good time?"

"Yes."

"What's with all the monosyllabic answers?"

Gilbert didn't say anything.

"Ha! Can't answer that one with a _yes_, can you? Come on, stop talking like a zombie and tell me what you want to tell me."

"Well, you know I have this rule about not sleeping with anybody…"

Arthur began to laugh.

"Hey, what are you laughing at?" Gilbert poked him.

"Because I know you're either going to say you slept with her, or you're about to sleep with her soon!" He kept laughing.

"Aw, you really are no fun."

This just made Arthur laugh a little more. But as Gilbert began to pout (and boy, could that albino pout), the blond got his laughter under control and stopped long enough to drink his tea.

"I heartily apologize, my friend. Pray continue."

Gilbert moped for a few more seconds. "I haven't slept with her yet. But. You're right. I think I have to. It's driving me mad."

"Good kisser, huh?"

"I don't even know! She won't kiss me!"

This set Arthur off again, and Gilbert leaned across the table and punched him in the arm, smearing his sleeve with ketchup in the process. "Damn you." Arthur handed him a napkin. Gilbert mopped off his sleeve and frowned at his friend. "Seriously, Artie. I'm totally confused here."

"I don't blame you. If she won't kiss you, how are you going to get her into bed?" He managed to control himself after that one, contenting himself with merely grinning.

"Ah, I have no idea." The albino ate a few fries.

"Maybe they have some kind of rule that strippers aren't allowed to do anything with the customers?"

"Think I haven't thought of that already? No, I asked her, and she said there was no rule like that."

"Hmm. Well, how did she say it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did she sound like she was lying? Or like she couldn't understand why you asked?" There was definitely something funny going on, Arthur considered. Women were ordinarily all over his friend.

But Gilbert now had a funny little look in his eye. "You know, that's a pretty good question. She was uncomfortable saying it, but – not like she was lying. Like maybe there was some reason she was afraid to tell me?"

"Maybe she really is married, git."

"Well, she said she wasn't."

The two friends sat considering this odd behavior. Neither had any ideas.

"Well, what about your coffee shop bloke? What's going on with him?"

"Eh, nothing. He seems kind of standoffish lately."

"Find out his name yet?"

"No. He won't talk much."

"Which Starbucks is this, anyway?"

Gilbert looked up angrily. "Oh, no you don't, you sneak. Forget it. Just because you can't get your little limey mitts on your boss doesn't mean you can take my coffee shop bloke away from me!" But about halfway through that sentence he started laughing, and so did Arthur.

"All right, forget it, wanker. Maybe he just needs a friend? Not a lover, I mean. Have you been trying to talk to him?"

"Well, not much, because he's been kind of surly."

"Try it," Arthur suggested, shrugging. "Can't hurt. Maybe even if he's not interested in dating now, you could get to be friends now and go out with him later?"

"Huh. I'm friends with you and you won't go out with me."

Arthur looked at him incredulously and then began spluttering with laughter, as did his friend. "Ah, you git, you know you're not my type." They kept laughing through the rest of the meal, talking of other topics.

Just before the check came, Arthur's cell phone rang. He looked at it and his eyes widened. It was Lovino! Calling from Italy. He hoped nothing was wrong; this was a very odd hour for him to call. "Excuse me, Gilbert." He got up and walked towards the front of the diner.

"Arthur? Is everything going all right? I apologize for calling so late, but it's about the only free time I've had so far."

"I – no, everything's fine," he replied. "It's not that late; I'm just – ah, I'm eating at the diner." He certainly wasn't going to mention Gilbert's name.

"Ah." Lovino cleared his throat before continuing. "I just wanted to let you know I'm staying a few extra days here. I've met with the real estate agents but now I need to get contractors in to fix up a lot of little things before I can sell this place. I should be back by Wednesday." There was a short pause. "But I don't want to keep you from your dinner. I'll try to call you later in the week if there's anything important."

"That's fine. If anything unusual does happen, I'll call you?"

"Fine. I'll let you know when I have my departure date. Oh, and I got word that the shipments should be arriving next week sometime, which means about two weeks until we see them at the gallery. When I have an actual delivery date, I'll let you know."

"Sounds good to me. Good luck with the contractors."

"Right. Talk to you later."

They disconnected and Arthur headed thoughtfully back to his seat. Gilbert was giving him a very funny look, which he didn't see.

"He calls you from Italy?"

"Every once in a while," Arthur said absently, his mind still on the phone call, and then realized what Gilbert had said.

"Kesesese! That's _awesome~, _Artie, you're well on your way! Good for you!"

But Arthur was now red and scowling. "Gilbert. Please. Just shut up about him, please?" He looked down at the table. "There is nothing going on, there will be nothing going on. Just drop it, please." He sighed.

"Sure…if you insist."

"I do insist. Not that I really think it's going to make a difference." He put his head into his hands, but stared at Gilbert.

"All right. Listen, I paid the check while you were on the phone, so let's get out of here."

The two friends left the diner. Arthur asked Gilbert to drive him straight home, which he did, without a single snarky comment.

"So keep me posted, yeah, on the dating scene?" Arthur asked, as he got out of the car.

"Yeah, all right. Something's gotta change around here. It's driving me nuts."

"It will. Just hang in there. Talk to your coffee chap."

"I will. Thanks, Arthur." Gilbert blew him a kiss and drove off with a grin.


	18. L'ange du mal

**L'ange du mal (The Fallen Angel). **(Joseph Geefs, white marble sculpture, 1843)

Arthur signed the manifest for the shipping crates, which the truck driver then wheeled into the main space. He and Lovino would be setting up the new display tonight, and he was quite eager to see what sort of things his employer had brought back. He was still confused about the provenance of these items. Lovino had implied they weren't all purchased from European galleries or dealers, even though they'd all shipped together from Rome. But Arthur hoped to find out more tonight.

The truck driver left after putting the last crate in the room. Arthur had called Lovino when the shipment had arrived, and his employer was on his way over now. The plan was, as before, to have dinner somewhere, then return to the gallery and set up the new works. Arthur was quite looking forward to some socializing this evening.

About half an hour later Lovino arrived, as usual looking irritated, dressed in casual clothing, which Arthur hadn't seen him wearing before. A white t-shirt and jeans, black leather jacket…it surprised him how young Lovino looked in this, and how much less austere, despite his scowl. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Well, traffic, and some problems with the Italian real estate, no real big deal." Here, he pushed his hand through his hair, and then fixed it; this always amused Arthur, though he took care not to let it show. He never really saw a difference in the way Lovino's hair looked. "Listen, I was wondering if you'd mind if we got takeout or delivery tonight and ate here, instead of eating out somewhere. Right now I'm probably not fit company for some nice place, and I'm not dressed for it, either." He took the jacket off and tossed it onto the desk.

"I was surprised to see you dressed like that, but since we're going to be doing manual labor all night, it makes sense. I don't mind takeaway. Chinese?"

"Yes, that's fine. I think there are some menus in the desk. I'll go get them; you stay here in case a client comes in." Lovino went into the office to unearth the menus.

…

"Well, I hope you have a crowbar," Arthur laughed, after they'd settled down with their takeout.

Lovino looked at him in disbelief. "How stupid do you think I am, bastard? There's one in the vault."

"Did you just call me 'bastard'?" Arthur stared at him.

The brunet blinked. "Probably. S-sorry. It's just a word I use, with…people I'm…with…well, it's just a word I use. Doesn't really mean anything, to me. I'll try not to do it again." Red-faced, he shrugged and poked around in his takeout box with a plastic fork.

It was a measure of their developing friendship that Arthur laughed easily instead of panicking. "I don't really care, as long as you're not serious. Call me what you like."

Lovino just snorted and passed him an egg roll. "Thanks. Here, I don't like these."

"Me neither." Arthur set the egg roll aside. He tried not to stare at the dragon tattoo that was visibly peeking out from the sleeve of Lovino's shirt, but it was intriguing. He forced himself to pay attention to the food. He could get a glimpse of it later, he was certain; once they were busy opening crates, or something.

"Is your tuxedo finished yet?"

"Oh! Oh, yes. I did mean to tell you. It's – it's quite elegant."

"I'm sure it is," Lovino said softly. Then in a more normal tone, he said, "My tailor always does excellent work. I'm glad you got it done in time. So…how are things outside of work? Don't worry – I'm not going to ask about your art, I know you don't like to talk about it. But – anything else interesting going on?"

"Eh, not really. I've been thinking about the holidays. You close the gallery down between Christmas and New Year's, right?"

"That's right, but that's still a couple months away."

"I'm just trying to get my plans organized." He ate some fried rice. "Not sure what I'll do; maybe go back to England."

"Got family there?"

"No…well, some cousins. I wouldn't be spending time with them if I still lived there, so I wouldn't go back just for them."

"You never told me what brought you to America in the first place," Lovino pointed out.

"Er." Arthur fidgeted a bit.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy."

"It's all right. I – " Well, no. He really didn't want to talk about Alfred tonight. Arthur sought for a different conversational topic. "Do you stay in Washington for the holidays?"

"No, I always go back to Italy."

"Do you – is your family there?" Arthur felt himself turning red, at that. It was the first time he'd ever asked Lovino something so personal, and he was afraid it was intrusive.

But – "No real family left," Lovino offered casually, as if it weren't important. "I go back to spend time with my friend Feliciano; he and his parents are like family to me."

"That's nice."

"Maybe –" But Lovino fell silent, looking down at his plate. Arthur didn't want to pry either, so he ate some more, looking around the gallery.

"So – what kind of things do we have in these crates?"

"Four of them have paintings, the other two sculptures. I'm not going to tell you about them," Lovino grinned, "I want to see your reaction when we take them out of the crates."

"I feel like a kid on Christmas morning," Arthur admitted. "I can't wait to see."

Lovino turned back to his pot stickers, seeming thoughtful.

…

They'd opened all the crates but not yet removed anything; Arthur, in his business suit, was perspiring, so he took off the jacket and tie (feeling stupid, because he probably should have done that first). Even Lovino was looking a little warm. The crate lids were stacked on the side of the room.

"Let's take a little break," his boss suggested. "I'll get us some water." He moved off to the office area and Arthur perched on the edge of the desk, rolling up his sleeves. Bollocks, it was really warm in here. He often vacillated about wearing an undershirt with his suits, and stupidly, today he hadn't worn one, so he couldn't take his dress shirt off. And he'd feel much too self-conscious walking around shirtless in front of Lovino. He got a little distracted at that idea and raked his hands through his hair to cool it.

"That refrigerator's much better than the water cooler," he said, as Lovino came back with two bottles of water. "I really like this fizzy water, too. It's almost addicting." He grinned and uncapped his; Lovino did the same, and they refreshed themselves. Arthur spared a moment to look at the dragon. It really did look very artistic.

"Looking at the tattoo, huh?" Lovino said with a smile, making Arthur blush.

"I – er –"

"No, it's all right. I knew you were interested, since you asked about it before." He pulled up the sleeve as far as he could and turned to show it to Arthur. "Go on, look all you want."

So Arthur looked. It was a Welsh-style dragon, although in shades of grey and black, not red. "It's beautiful." Both he and Lovino blushed, so he hurriedly went on, "I've never even seen a tattoo like that. How – how long does that take, that level of detail?"

"This one took about four hours, but not all at once. I went back a couple of times and had a little done every time."

"Is – did you get it done here? In Washington?"

Lovino had to think a moment. "No. This one, in New York."

"This one? Do you mean you have others?" Arthur's breath caught. He couldn't see any more body art, and started to wonder, rather dangerously, where else on his body Lovino might have some designs.

Lovino blushed, which again had the effect of making Arthur blush, and they stood there, not looking at each other, not speaking, for about ten seconds, until Lovino cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah, a couple."

Arthur was sensible enough not to take that topic further. "Then they must not hurt that much."

"Like I said, it really depends on your commitment to the design." Lovino seemed relieved that they'd moved on conversationally. "Come on; let's get these things out of the boxes."

They spent the next hour removing everything from the crates and setting the packing materials to one side of the room. Arthur really did begin to feel like a kid on Christmas morning – a bloody lucky kid. These were all remarkably beautiful works of art. After a while he stopped oohing and aahing and simply gazed at them in dreamy contemplation. Lovino had a very good eye for art, no matter how untutored he claimed to be.

Eventually everything was out of the crates, and Arthur was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the new things, somewhat unfocused from the task at hand.

He heard some actual happy laughter from Lovino, which broke him out of his reverie. "I knew you'd like them."

"They're all so remarkable! You do have a very good eye," he conceded.

But Lovino lost his smile and looked away. "Yeah."

"Is – is there something wrong? You – you've seemed very odd about these works, on and off." He was a little hesitant to ask, but did not like it when things bothered his friend.

"I – well, I'll tell you some other time. Nothing is really _wrong._ I just – just – I'm not ready to talk about it just yet."

"You don't have to talk about it at all, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Thanks. Eventually I'll tell you." He paced around the room a little and then picked up a painting. "Do you have any idea of how to display these yet? Do you want to take another break and think about it?"

"I've been too busy admiring them to think about displaying them. Let's take a break. I could use another drink. I can think about it while we're resting."

"Sounds good to me." Lovino set down the painting and headed back to the office for more water; Arthur watched him go, wishing he could do something to ease his stress.

…

They worked for about two more hours, shifting items around for the best exposure. Near the end of that time, the gallery was shaping up, but both Arthur and Lovino were wiped out. Arthur's hair, never elegant, was now sticking to his head; Lovino's t-shirt was plastered to his body. He walked away to get them some more cool water, and Arthur could see through the sweaty fabric that he had another tattoo, something across his shoulder blades – though he couldn't quite make it out. He started wondering again about what kind of designs he would have chosen, and when in his life he'd gotten them, and he was still staring at the doorway, a bit dopey in his daydream, when Lovino walked back with the water.

"Are you all right?"

Arthur snapped back to attention and blushed, though that may have simply been because the room was so warm. "Er. Yes, I just feel a little – stupid from the heat. I should have brought casual clothes to change into." He fidgeted a bit. It really would feel much nicer to take his shirt off; by this point, it was practically all he could think about.

"Hell, I'm feeling overheated myself, and I'm only wearing a t-shirt." Lovino looked away, fiddling with the water bottle cap.

Arthur pulled the hem of his shirt out of his trousers and flapped it to get some air circulation.

"If – if you feel more comfortable without…the shirt, then…uh…feel free..." Lovino's voice trailed off, and he turned away. "I need to check something. I'll be right back." He stalked back into the office and closed the door.

Arthur was really conflicted now. Lovino had given him permission to take off his shirt – and it would be a damn sight more comfortable without it. But he would still feel self-conscious. He also idly wondered what Lovino was checking on.

The hell with it. He really needed to get out of this sweaty shirt. He unbuttoned it and peeled it off, laying it neatly on the desk. He was rather glad they'd pulled the blinds down earlier! He snorted, imagining what this would look like to anonymous passersby. Arthur leaned back against the desk to relax, crossing his legs at the ankles. Ah, this felt so much better.

The new bottle of water was next to him; he uncapped it and drank deeply, and when Lovino walked out of the back office he almost spit it all over the remaining artworks. Lovino had taken his own shirt off. The brunet looked across the gallery, not at Arthur, at first.

"I, uh, it was getting pretty hot, and I, I didn't want you to feel too self-conscious…" His voice trailed off and he looked over at Arthur, who by now had recovered enough to smile shyly at his employer.

"Thanks," he said, trying to keep it nonchalant. Lovino was always so skittish. "I appreciate the gesture." He got off the desk and finished his water. "There's not much left to do, I think. Maybe a half hour?"

Lovino blew out a sigh. "Good, because I'm getting really tired!"

In the end, it took closer to an hour to finish up. Arthur had plenty of opportunities to look at the other designs that Lovino sported on his slender torso. The one spanning his shoulder blades was an intricate black and green Art Nouveau design; he also had a pair of entwined tomato-red koi circling his navel. When Arthur saw that he automatically wanted to trace his fingers over it, to kiss it…Then he had to stop work and take a drink of water to cool down. But sexual desire was soon replaced by artistic desire, as he felt a sudden need to paint Lovino as a seductive, modern fallen angel in all his glory, shadowy wings framing him, dark-themed body art glowing in bright colors. His fingers itched for a sketch pencil, but he had none here. Well, bloody hell, he'd just have to commit the sight to memory. That wouldn't be a chore.

While they were putting the crates and remaining packing materials into a pile for Mr. Simonson to remove in the morning, Arthur idly asked, "Are you a Pisces?"

Lovino looked at him in shock. "How the fuck did you know that?" Then he frowned.

"Er." Arthur turned red again and looked away. "Your – your koi tattoo," he confessed. "I just – just guessed from that."

Lovino rushed angrily to the office and pulled his t-shirt back on before coming back out and answering, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. Yes. I – I forget about that symbolism a lot; it's a long time since I had that one done. And – and, well, maybe you won't understand this, but…a lot of people like to, well, stalk me, I guess…look me up so they can know stuff about me, try to impress me…and I really hate that, dammit." He dropped his hand and looked almost bashfully down at the floor. "I know you wouldn't do anything like that, but…that's always my knee-jerk reaction, and I'm sorry." He looked back up, finally facing Arthur.

Arthur felt like a complete git. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I was – was admiring the artwork, and I didn't think about how it would sound to ask you that."

"Cheh, well, let's forget it, then. But yes. I'm a Pisces. I'm not much into the zodiac, but I liked this design so much I had to get it done." He lifted the hem of his t-shirt and looked at it critically. "Whatever. Come on, bastard, we're as done here as we can be. Do you want a ride home?"

Huh. It seemed like everything really was all right. Arthur grabbed his things, put his shirt back on, and smiled. "Yes, that would be great, if you don't mind."

"Set the alarms, then, and we'll go." Lovino picked up his jacket, heading towards the door. "Thanks for your help."

"It's not a problem at all. I'm really glad I got to help."

Lovino smiled at him and they left the gallery.

…

_The sculpture used for the chapter title was designed for a cathedral, but after a few years it was removed, because it was considered too sensual, with too much "distracting allure," for the churchgoers! When I read that, I knew it had to be used for this chapter, even though it's not a painting. It really is striking._

_When it was removed, the space was fitted with a similar sculpture by Geefs' brother Guillaume titled "Le g__é__nie du mal," which had been subtly changed from the original. The notable changes are that the original was an androgynous young nude with just a slight piece of fabric draping him; the second sculpture was a manlier figure, with much more fabric covering his body. It's an interesting comparison._


	19. Portrait of a Young Man

**Portrait of a Young Man.** (Gianlorenzo Bernini, chalk on paper, 1625)

Lovino was waiting in the office for Arthur to finish his work day. They needed to finalize plans for next week's reception and he'd offered to treat his employee to dinner at Morton's again, or in fact anywhere Arthur would like to go. The blond hadn't yet decided, though he'd vetoed Morton's. Lovino assumed he wanted to go somewhere more low-key; that wasn't a problem for him. He just hoped Arthur wouldn't choose the diner; he still felt somewhat uncomfortable with that memory.

While he waited, he pulled his sketchbook out of his briefcase and cleared a space for it on the desk. (Arthur kept a very messy desk!) Lovino had been carrying the sketchbook around with him a lot more lately, trying to capture little scenes or interesting perspectives that he saw around town. While he still wasn't feeling like much of an artist, at least he was starting to look at things with a more critical eye. He wondered how much of this was due to Arthur's influence.

Idly he tried sketching the desk telephone; when he was unhappy with that he flipped the page and tried sketching the refrigerator. At this point he felt more comfortable with straight-line drawings. There were a lot of sketches of doors and cars in this book. He closed it when he saw Arthur approaching.

"I'm ready now," Arthur said, sticking his head in the door.

Lovino got up and grabbed his briefcase. They walked out into the main space before he realized he'd left the sketchbook on the desk. "Hold on, I forgot something.". He scurried back into the office. Where the hell was it? Then he saw the familiar spiral binding. It must have gotten shoved under some papers when he picked up the briefcase. He stuffed it into his briefcase and they left for dinner.

…

After the dinner, Lovino dropped Arthur at his apartment and headed for home. They'd had a good time at the restaurant (not the diner) and had almost forgotten to talk about the details for the reception. This easy friendship continued to surprise Lovino, and it made him pretty happy, when he let himself think about it. Arthur wasn't a demanding kind of bastard at all.

He got a glass of water from the refrigerator, which reminded him that he'd been trying to sketch the refrigerator at the gallery. Lovino pulled the sketchbook out and sat at his dining room table. First he opened the book quickly to the first blank page, trying not to get distracted by any of his other sketches. Maybe this would make it seem fresh and new, inspiring. But he wasn't going to try another damn refrigerator. Next he put his glasses on. Then he pulled the sketch pencils out and sat down, fiddling with the media, and let his mind wander as his hands drew on the paper.

Hmm, yes, this was looking pretty nice! It was turning out to be a little sketch of Arthur. He blushed a little, but what the hell, he was alone, and nobody would see it. It was kind of cartoony, not very realistic, but…he could tell it was Arthur and not some anonymous figure. Smiling, he worked on it a little more, refining it, darkening it, until he was afraid that any further work would ruin it. Maybe he should branch out from straight-line drawings.

Lovino shut the sketchbook and went to bed.

…

In the morning he made his espresso, grabbed a doughnut from his refrigerator (cream-filled doughnuts were a weakness of his), and went back to the dining room table. The sketchbook was still there; he decided to look through it at his other drawings, hopefully with that more critical eye.

Lovino riffled through the pages, not understanding what he was seeing. Then he flipped to the back, and yes, there was the little sketch of Arthur he'd done last night. But…oh, fuck_…_this was _not his sketchbook._ This must be Arthur's sketchbook! For a moment he forgot to panic about his own little sketch and leafed through the pages, admiring the work. Arthur was very, very good, he was pleased to see. One lingering fear in their budding friendship was that Arthur would be a sucky artist and Lovino would have to find a way to let him down gently…but these sketches were beautiful! Buildings, flowers, a very good sketch of that grinning albino friend reclining on a couch (he frowned intensely at that), here the head of an angel, framed by dark wings…

He shoved his chair back so abruptly that the sketchbook fell on the floor. "No," he breathed. But he couldn't resist looking again; he picked it up respectfully and opened it, leafing through it. And as he searched for the angel sketch that had startled him so, he stumbled across others equally startling…his dragon, his koi tattoos…and several sketches of Lovino's own face, frowning, smiling, staring into the distance…

He felt his face burning. No wonder Arthur never wanted to talk about his work.

Lovino was intensely embarrassed by all this clandestine attention…and, yes, he had to admit, also rather flattered. Then he remembered two things in quick succession: one, that his own sketchbook must still be in the office. While it contained nothing embarrassing, surely when Arthur found it, he'd realize what had happened, and…_he_ might be embarrassed, suspecting that Lovino had leafed through it. And two, Arthur would eventually see that his employer had drawn a cute little sketch of him in the back of his book! Dammit!

He immediately flipped the book over to tear out that sketch…and discovered one of Arthur's sketches on the other side of the page. Now what was he going to do? He couldn't tear out his sketch, or he'd be tearing away Arthur's own work!

Still quite red and agitated, Lovino got up and paced back and forth in the dining room, wondering what to do. At the end of ten minutes he was no closer to a solution, so he stopped pacing, sat down, and finished his espresso and doughnut, drumming his fingers on the table.

A few moments of logical thought led him to the following conclusions:

Arthur liked to sketch him. A _lot. _This was the most disturbing thing about this, but it was also the most irrelevant at the moment. He could think about that later. What he had to do first was minimize his own embarrassment and Arthur's.

He could go back to the gallery now – Arthur didn't arrive until 9:45, and it was only 7:30 – and switch the books back. The only drawback to this was that eventually Arthur would see that little sketch of himself, and he'd know Lovino had drawn it, and he'd also realize that Lovino had (most likely) looked through the rest of the book! Dammit. He scrubbed both hands through his hair fiercely. Then he smoothed it back down.

His sketch pencils didn't erase well, either, that he already knew. So that option was out.

Or, he could wait until Arthur had had a chance to discover the accidental switch, go in openly and honestly, apologize, and exchange books.

That was certainly the moral high ground, although he could see just how tricky that conversation would be.

Lovino hated being a sneak, but he wasted several more minutes trying to convince himself that sneaking around was the best option. Sighing, he eventually admitted to himself that exchanging it in person, with an apology, was the best way to approach it.

Having made that decision, he really didn't feel it was appropriate to go peeking voyeuristically through Arthur's sketchbook again, so he put it in his briefcase, even though he was burning with curiosity.

But once Arthur had been made aware of Lovino's mistake, he also intended to press the blond to show him some paintings. If they were as good as his sketches, Lovino definitely wanted to promote them. His friend – well, _yes_, his friend, not just his employee – did very good work.

He set off for his office with a calmer heart.

…

_This particular sketch is very interesting to me. Several years ago I purchased a poster repro from the National Gallery, which clearly describes it as one of Bernini's self-portraits. However, now that I look this up on the internet (various sites), it is described merely as "Portrait of a Young Man." Perhaps some new evidence came to light in the intervening years that proves it's not actually Bernini in the sketch._


	20. Portrait of Chess Players

**Portrait of Chess Players.** (Marcel Duchamp, oil on canvas, 1911)

Arthur had just concluded the sale of one of the new sculptures. He was crating it for the customer when Lovino came in through the front door, acting unusually reserved. There was about a half hour left until closing time.

"Hi," the blond said, wondering what the problem might be. He finished with the sculpture and the client left; Lovino was still standing there, looking at the floor. "Is everything all right?"

"Nn. No. Well, I – I hope not. I'll wait in the office until we're closed."

It must be an unusual problem. Normally he would be exploding with anger if something had gone wrong. Arthur stood around in deep thought, but not actually worried; another client came in to browse.

When this woman left without buying anything, he closed up for the day a little early, setting the alarms and somewhat hesitantly coming back to the little office. "We're closed now," he offered quietly.

Lovino was sitting at the big desk staring at it, head in hands, but he stood up and motioned Arthur inside. "I – well, I don't even know how to say this." He stopped and began fiddling with his pen.

Now Arthur _was_ worried. Perhaps Lovino was in trouble? He tried to look supportive, but wasn't sure he was doing a very good job. "Then don't say it," he suggested. "If it's disturbing you so much."

His employer looked right at him, rather pale, his beautiful amber eyes very troubled. "Arthur, last night I accidentally took your sketchbook home. We – we have the same type of sketchbook." Here, he gestured to the desk, where Arthur saw two matching sketchbooks side by side.

Then he realized just what Lovino was telling him. "You – you looked in my sketchbook?" He felt so weak that he had to sit down in the client chair, gripping its arms. He stared anxiously at Lovino; his heart was pounding and he felt a little dizzy.

"I – I'm extremely sorry. I didn't realize it until this morning, when I opened it to look back at some of the things I'd drawn." Lovino was rather red himself, but he watched Arthur carefully.

"You – er." Arthur couldn't think of anything to say. _Bollocks!_ He couldn't even think of anything to _think._

"I was going to come back and switch them without telling you." Here, Lovino apparently couldn't take the intense eye contact; he looked away and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "But I – I drew a sketch in the book before I realized what had happened." He looked out of the window. "And I couldn't tear it out, because it had a – a sketch, of yours, on the other side of the page. I didn't want to destroy any of your – beautiful – work."

That one word reassured Arthur more than anything else Lovino had ever said to him. He'd been afraid to show him any of his work, fearing Lovino would dislike it. But if he found his sketches _beautiful_ – "But you – you looked through the rest of it?" he dared to ask in a breathless tone.

"Just – just a little, dammit. When I realized what had happened, I closed it and put it in my briefcase; I didn't want to be nosy on purpose." Lovino rubbed his hand over his still-red face, still looking out the window.

Arthur thought about this for a little while. Could they actually get through this mess? It seemed like – maybe? He'd have to be very, very careful about what he said to Lovino. But he would be. "Thank you," he finally said in a neutral tone. "It must have been a shock to you." He didn't kid himself that Lovino had missed all the sketches of himself. At least that book didn't have any nudes in it! He felt himself turning red and covered his face.

"That – well, yes, but – but I'm not ready to talk about that yet." Lovino turned back, but still didn't look at Arthur. "I – I was going to ask you this a long time ago, but…you have always seemed so reticent about your work. Will you show me some of your finished art? I – if it's as good as your sketch work, I would like to – to display some in the gallery for sale, if that is something you'd want."

"Of course I would!" Arthur blurted out. But Lovino didn't even seem to register that. "I – you probably realize now, why I never want to talk about it?" The brunet nodded slowly. "But…thank you. I would be – be happy to show you some of my better paintings." He took some deep breaths, thinking about this. Bloody hell, almost everything he'd done since they met had Lovino as a subject! He couldn't bring those to the gallery. "From before we met," he went on, to reassure both his employer and himself.

Lovino nodded. "Yes. But – but right now, I – I'm still kind of – of – well, I'm going to go home now; I'll talk to you later in the week, sometime before the reception?"

"Yes, of course," Arthur agreed. He needed some time to think about it as well. He managed to stand up and checked both sketchbooks self-consciously before picking up his own. Lovino shoved the remaining one into his briefcase and they left the gallery without looking at one another, without sharing another word.


	21. St George and the Dragon

**St. George and the Dragon.** (Raphael, oil on wood, 1506)

There were only three more days until the reception. Lovino was trying to work, but he was increasingly furious and tense. He hoped Arthur had been doing what needed to be done to prepare – arranging for caterers, setting up the gallery – but he'd not been able to make himself visit, or even _call_, him, since that embarrassing night with the sketchbooks last week. Lovino kept picking up the phone and losing his nerve. This just served to make him angrier; he didn't want to talk to Arthur while he was so bitter and nervous, but he did think they needed to settle this somehow before the reception, or it would be a fucking awkward night in front of the clients. Dammit.

He picked up the phone again and threw it down with a thump. No, he was just not ready to call. He didn't even know what to say. He should have called earlier; the longer he left it, the more stupid he was going to look when they finally talked! He raked his hands through his hair, not even bothering to fix it afterwards.

As the day wore on Lovino got more and more fidgety, unable to focus on his work. Several times he got up to pace around his small office, fiddling with his tie, his glasses. _"Chigi!" _His head hurt, and he felt like he was about to explode, but he did have work to get done. He sat again and tried to focus.

Late in the afternoon, the office phone rang.

"Vargas," he barked. Fuck, he hoped it wasn't some-

"Hello. It's – it's Arthur."

Lovino blew out his breath. _Oh._ "H-hi. Are you – well?" He felt stupid asking that, but didn't know what else to say. He felt like an ass now, for having forced Arthur to take the first step. Dammit, he was a professional; he should have dealt with it sooner.

"Yes. Well – actually, no. I'm calling because I think we need to talk, before the reception. I don't want us to be…stilted with each other in front of everyone." Arthur sounded pretty nervous, too. Not surprising, really.

"I know," Lovino eventually said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Let – let me wrap up things here and I'll come over. Is everything else arranged? Caterers, and all that?"

"Yes, all that's under control."

"Good. I'll be over in an hour or so."

"I'll be here."

He hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. Well…at least they were speaking to each other now. He took some painkillers before locking up and leaving for the day.

…

"Why don't we walk around?" Lovino suggested when he got there, trying to keep his tone light. "It's a nice evening, and I feel a little too antsy to stand around talking about this."

"Suits me."

They locked up the gallery and left. At first they just walked together, Arthur looking at the sky, Lovino at the ground. Lovino didn't know how to start the conversation; he suspected Arthur didn't really have any ideas, either. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up.

"I –" Lovino stopped himself, but then took a deep breath and went on, changing the subject already. "If we really are going to display some of your art at the gallery, I'd like to get it in place before the reception."

"Oh! That wasn't even what I wanted to talk about."

"I know, but…it still needed to be addressed, dammit."

"Well, the…the only thing is, most of them are not framed, and the few that are, are too big to carry on the metro."

"I wouldn't make you take them on the train!" Lovino was very surprised at that idea.

"But…your Spitfire is kind of small, too."

"Uh. Yeah."

"I guess I could take a taxi or something."

"Dammit. But yes." They walked on a little further. "But…I need to see them first."

Arthur looked up at the darkening sky. "I know, but I've been – hesitant – about asking you to come see them, because of the – the sketchbook thing."

Lovino scowled. He could tell his face was quite red, and he absolutely did not know how to proceed with this discussion. But, fuck it; they needed to work this out, if they were going to have any kind of – if Arthur was going to keep working for him. "Uh," he said noncommittally, trying to buy time.

Arthur took a deep breath and began to speak very quickly. "Look, all it is, is that you _inspire_ me. You have a very classical bone structure; the contrast of your hair and skin is very effective, very elegant. I – I actually started drawing you long before we met. You had come into the diner one night, and the composition, the scene of you reflected in the dark window, reading and eating – I liked the scene and started drawing it. I had no idea that I'd even _see_ you again, let alone that we'd actually meet." Lovino saw him turn his face away.

He thought about this. Perhaps it was true; he couldn't really admit or deny his own – his own _ability to inspire_, dammit. How fucking ridiculous that sounded to him. But everyone was entitled to their own opinions, Arthur included. Lovino was more absorbed by Arthur's comment about the diner. The only time he'd been at that diner before the fucking stupid _cheesecake_ scene (here he blushed violently, grinding his teeth, and ran a hand over his face) was that night when – when the manager had wanted to send Arthur home, and he hadn't wanted to leave. But Lovino couldn't think about the implications of that right now. It was all too intricate and bizarre. "All right," he finally mumbled, unable to really process this. Hell. For now, he could ignore it, and think about it later. The important thing was to get them back on track, so they wouldn't have an iffy business relationship during the reception. He didn't want them making the clients nervous. It was bad enough he hated the damn receptions when he was in a _good_ mood.

They went another block before Arthur asked, "So we – are we all right, now?"

Lovino took a deep breath and let it all out noisily. "We – we can be, I think. I'll probably keep freaking out about this for a little while, but…I'll try to keep it to myself and get over it. You've been very – I don't know, very low-key when you're with me, pretty much. I appreciate that a lot. So yeah, I can get over this. I still don't know how I feel about it, but…"

"If I can help, please just tell me how."

After another block Lovino finally looked at him. "When do you want to show me your paintings? I don't want to be pushy, but we only have a couple of days left."

"If you're not doing anything now, you could…give me a ride home and look at them?" Arthur shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "I feel like this whole thing is hanging over us like the Sword of Damocles. I just want to get over it and get back to normal."

"I agree. Yes, let's just work through it. I'll try to stop being so obsessive. Come on back to my car; I'll drive you home, we can look at the paintings and if I can fit them in my car, I'll bring them back over, and you can hang them tomorrow? If not, call a cab in the morning and I'll reimburse you." Yes. Talking about business and logistics certainly made it easier to talk to Arthur right now.

"Yes. Thanks." They turned and walked back to Lovino's car. He began to feel a little more hopeful. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult after all. He'd just need to force himself to behave normally, and not like some stupid panicky kid. Dammit.

…


	22. Masterpiece

_Happy New Year! This and chapter 21 were originally one long chapter. I felt the flow was better broken up, but to celebrate the New Year I'll update both today. Enjoy! _

…

**Masterpiece. **(Roy Lichtenstein, lithograph, 1962)

When they pulled up outside Arthur's apartment block after a mostly-silent drive, he turned to Lovino in consternation. "Ah – I – I – My place is a mess!" he realized. Great. Not only had he been a complete arse about the sketchbook, but now he was going to look like a complete _slob_. Bollocks. He didn't seem able to do anything right, where Lovino was concerned.

But Lovino surprised him by snorting with laughter. "Well, go clean it, bastard, if you think you have to! I'll wait outside, I don't mind." Then he sobered a bit. "In fact, I can probably use some time alone." He parked the car.

Arthur smiled in weak relief. "Thanks. I'm on the top floor; do you want to wait in the hallway?"

"Sure, I can do that." They took the elevator to his apartment.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you out here long," he promised.

"Just go. I'll be fine, dammit; I'm not a little kid." But Lovino smiled a little again, which was heartening.

…

Arthur thought about this 'bastard' business while he hastily threw laundry into the basket, stacked books and magazines neatly, and most importantly, hid absolutely every last sketch and painting of Lovino from view. He had to throw a sheet over the diner painting, because it was still on the easel, but at least it was now out of sight.

There wasn't much time to think about it, but it seemed like Lovino only called him that when he was relaxed and comfortable. Kind of the way Arthur always called Gilbert a git. Huh. He'd better watch himself; all he needed now was to call Lovino a git. That would really be the last straw!

But…relaxation and comfort seemed to be the most difficult things for Lovino to achieve. He was still pretty angry all the time, even a lot of times when he was with Arthur. Not for the first time he wondered why his employer couldn't calm down more, but…argh, he didn't want to leave him standing out in the hallway all night! He didn't have time to flit about while deciphering this. Arthur put the kettle on, gave the living room and workroom one last look, and went to let Lovino in.

"Hi. Come in, please," he smiled, as if he'd merely been waiting for him to arrive.

Lovino came in, looking around. "Huh. This is a pretty nice place. I kind of expected something more bohemian."

"Ah, I like my creature comforts, too. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Lovino raised his eyebrows, but then nodded. "Thank you." He took off his overcoat and draped it over the back of the couch.

"Please, sit down," Arthur suggested. "The tea should be ready in a minute. Then I'll show you into my workroom." Bloody hell, now he was nervous again. He felt like he was on his first date, or something. No. This was far worse. If Lovino didn't like his paintings, it would invalidate so much of his life…

Lovino sat on the couch; Arthur escaped to the kitchen to make the tea.

When he came back Lovino was leafing through a book on sculpture Arthur had recently purchased. "Do you sculpt?" he asked, as Arthur handed him the tea mug. "Ah, this is nice and warm. My fingers always get so cold at this time of year."

"Why don't you wear gloves?" Arthur blurted, and then closed his eyes. Why couldn't he watch his mouth?

But surprisingly, his boss just laughed. "I keep losing them. Cheh, I deal with it. Thanks for the tea."

They sat and sipped for a while. "But no, I don't sculpt," Arthur eventually answered him. "I've never been interested in creating sculpture, although I do admire well-done works."

"There's a lot of good classical sculpture in Italy," Lovino said somewhat absently, which made Arthur wonder about the new things in the gallery again. But he was absolutely not going to risk any iffy questions. Not tonight. His curiosity would have to wait, probably for quite some time.

They talked of this and that for a little while, finishing the tea. "Are you ready to look at my paintings?" he then asked shyly.

"Are you ready to show me?"

Arthur nodded. "My workroom is over here." He led the way into the small second bedroom which he used exclusively for painting. This room was still a total mess, but there was no way he'd have been able to organize it and leave his employer standing outside! Paint tubes everywhere, brushes, drop cloths, reference sketches and photographs all over the walls…

"Huh, now I get it."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I always wondered why you keep the damn desk so messy in the office." Here, something seemed to break Lovino's concentration, and he rubbed his hand over his face before continuing. "But - but I'm a complete neat freak, so…I can't understand how anybody can be so messy. Maybe it's part of the artist's temperament?"

Arthur smiled at him; clearly something was distressing him again, and he wanted very badly to put Lovino at ease. "I think it's just because I'm bloody lazy," he offered, and they both laughed.

Lovino stood timidly in the workroom doorway while Arthur went to the canvases stacked along one wall. "Come closer. You won't be able to see, from there."

The brunet dutifully stepped closer, avoiding the mess, and hunkered down a few feet from the stack. "Whenever you're ready."

As Arthur showed Lovino the paintings, some landscapes, some still lifes, even a few fantasy paintings, he watched his employer's face. His expression, which had started out neutral and interested, became almost wistful as he looked at them. "Bastard," he finally breathed, and Arthur's brain said _bingo!, _"these are so – you really –" Apparently he couldn't go on, but the tone of his voice filled the blond with such relief and pride that he had to restrain himself from kneeling down and hugging him.

He took a few deep breaths, letting the last painting lean back against the stack. Lovino stayed in a crouch, still looking at it, before standing up.

"I'll be very happy to hang these in my gallery," he said, still in that soft tone of voice. "People ought to see these." At that, Arthur turned away. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "It's just – you –" Bollocks, he couldn't get weepy in front of his manager! "Thank you."

Lovino turned back to the paintings. Arthur appreciated that. When he felt under control again, he turned back too, and Lovino said matter-of-factly, "I can take quite a few of these back tonight and put them in the vault."

"But – but some of them aren't framed."

"Dammit, I keep forgetting. I wonder if I can get them framed before the reception. Ah, it's probably not possible, not if we want them to be done right. Okay." He rubbed his hands together. "Let me take the three small framed ones tonight. You take the two larger framed ones in a cab tomorrow. We can worry about getting the rest framed after the reception. Yes?"

It was definitely easier to focus now that they were discussing business details. "Yes. That's fine. Here, let's take them out into the other room."

They did this, and as they went back in for the last two paintings he saw Lovino looking at the shrouded easel. "What are you – oh, sorry, forget it. I said I wouldn't ask you about your work."

"I'll show it to you someday." He was quite nervous about it. It seemed they'd maybe gotten over the sketchbook fiasco pretty quickly? Arthur hoped so, but he definitely didn't want to risk a relapse. He picked up the last painting and they went out into the living room.

"Help me get them to my car. I don't want to damage them."

When the passenger seat was loaded up, blankets between the paintings for protection, they stood by the Spitfire nervously. "Thank you for your compliments. Even if nobody else likes them, it – it pleases me to know that you do."

"Everyone will like them," Lovino promised. "I'll call you tomorrow. I – uh – thank you for making that phone call today," he then muttered, turning red and hurriedly getting into the car.

Arthur nodded – though he wasn't sure whether Lovino even saw that – and waved weakly until the car was out of sight.

Bloody hell, what a night!

…


	23. At the Moulin Rouge

_Thanks to everyone who is reading this! I hope you're still enjoying it. Sorry to have made you wait so long for the tuxedos._

…

**At the Moulin Rouge. **(Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, oil on canvas, 1895)

Lovino arrived at the gallery about an hour early. Arthur should have been there for a little while already, allowing the caterers entrance, making sure everything was set up. Tonight was an exhibition only; if anyone wanted to purchase something, they'd reserve the painting or sculpture and complete the purchase transaction next week. Each guest had a stack of little cards printed with a client number. To reserve something, a card would be wedged into a picture frame, or placed under the base of a sculpture.

He was nervous, but not about Arthur any more. He'd spent a little time thinking about the sketches Arthur had drawn, and almost immediately concluded that he, Lovino, was being an uptight ass about it. People drew stuff all the time! He couldn't control that sort of thing. Let him draw whatever he wanted to draw. No, Lovino was now only nervous about the reception, about having to behave like a stuffy businessman all night. Luckily he only had to do this two or three times a year. But still.

He lost his breath as he saw Arthur walk out from the back office. The blond looked stunning. Lovino smiled secretly and made a mental note to give his tailor a generous tip. Then he realized he was staring like an idiot, so he blinked and walked further into the room.

"Oh! Hello! I'm glad you arrived early." Arthur crossed to him and shook his hand.

"The tux suits you," he managed to reply in a rather nonchalant tone, although it did far more than just _suit him._ Arthur looked like a model, though with his scruffy hair, admittedly like a model that had just rolled out of bed. Uh. Lovino cleared his throat.

Arthur blushed. "You – you look very good, too."

They stood together, gazing into each other's eyes with small smiles and reddened cheeks, still clasping hands, until a movement at the side of the room caught Lovino's eye, and he jerked his hand away. Dammit. He hated these things, but they were undoubtedly good for business.

"I need to finish with this," Arthur then said, gesturing to the caterers.

"Take your time."

Lovino spent some time dreamily wandering the gallery, trying to see it as his guests would. His friend hadn't been shy about hanging his own artworks; they were tastefully interspersed with the others.

Eventually everything was set up and the guests began to arrive. Of the six guests with dates they'd invited, only four pairs had been able to make it; it was going to be less of a strain than Lovino had originally feared. He stepped forward to greet each couple and introduce Arthur as his gallery manager; most of them were at least acquainted with him, since they'd all made fairly recent purchases.

People began milling about, nibbling hors d'oeuvres, admiring the showcased works. Even the small catering staff was interested in the venue, discussing art in general or these items in specific. Lovino was very pleased to hear compliments paid to Arthur's work. They'd opted not to display the artist's name on those tonight, to spare him any awkward questions or attention. Lovino floated around with an untouched glass of champagne, talking to the guests, listening to the commentary, feeling surprisingly serene.

…

When Arthur had seen Lovino walk in he'd let all his breath out in a big rush. Luckily no one had been standing near enough to hear this. He was so dark and elegant…now Arthur wanted to paint him again, a formal portrait, but…he knew he wouldn't try anything like that. Not until they'd definitely gotten completely over the sketchbook debacle. In fact, probably not until after he'd worked up his nerve to show Lovino the diner painting.

_And_ after Lovino worked up his nerve to look at it, and deal with it. He didn't kid himself; Lovino was a very private man, and probably still considered all this to be very intrusive. Well, he could keep the formal portrait idea as something to pursue in the future. He crossed to his employer and greeted him, and Arthur was very happy to see that Lovino seemed to be relaxed and not still obsessing over that other business. He had to get back to the caterers, so Lovino walked away and let him work.

By the time the guests had arrived, Arthur's head was spinning with inspiration. He was going to have _plenty_ of other things to work on; the ladies' dresses in particular were beautifully colored and textured. He wanted to paint an evening scene and work on his fabric textures. One older lady was wearing a tiara! That would be a challenge to paint right.

After the guests had all arrived he wandered around alone, chatting easily with them, discussing the artists and works on display and specifically trying not to toot his own horn. But several of them were commenting favorably on his paintings! Arthur was very excited, especially because they'd been hung without labels. It was fun to eavesdrop this way.

But there was one painting of his that hadn't been with the others, when he'd come in to hang them up. He wondered whether Lovino had disliked it, but had been too courteous to say anything. It was one of Arthur's favorites, somewhat unusual for him, a dark bird trapped in the snowy branches of a spiky, denuded tree at twilight. He'd taken great care with it. It was the first painting he'd started after Alfred had run off. It had rather mirrored the pain in his heart at the time. Sometimes, looking at it, he'd wondered whether his heart would ever truly be free again. Now he smiled, realizing the bird had been free for a long time now. Ah, he could ask Lovino about that painting later. No rush.

…

By the end of the evening, both of them were exhausted, but in high spirits. Arthur wasn't used to this sort of restrained, elegant behavior, although he'd worked hard to comport himself well. Lovino, he knew, was used to it, but hated it. They escorted the guests to the door with handshakes and smiles. Many things had sold – and all four of Arthur's. He was elated.

Lovino locked the door behind the last departing couple. "Dammit," he said, laughing a little. "I'm so glad that's over; I hate these things!"

Arthur sat on the desk. "Why do you host them, then? I realize it's good for business, and we had a lot of new things to showcase, but – if you really hate it, why?"

"I don't even know," his employer said, coming to sit next to him. Arthur scooted over a little to make room. "I suppose it's just a holdover from how I was raised. My stepfather hosted these kinds of things all the time…sometimes much bigger ones. But he was a gregarious man, and I've never felt comfortable with this." He paused and looked down at his hands. "Sometimes I think I should just chuck it all and be a hermit."

"Don't," Arthur said easily, trying to keep it light. "You'd probably hate it after a while."

"Cheh. Maybe." He looked at the display area. "Congratulations. I knew they'd like them. I want you to pick out some of the unframed ones. I'll have them framed. But I don't want to put them all out now; if we flood the place, the rarity value will diminish. After these have been removed, we can put one up, and after that one sells, we'll leave it for a couple of weeks to peak interest." Here he paused again. "Since I never actually bought them from you, you'll get all the money from the sales."

"I – I hadn't even thought about that! I was just so excited to finally be showing them."

Lovino turned and smiled almost fondly at him. "I like that about you. The art is more important than the money."

Arthur smiled too. "Money is useful, though. I'll pay you back for the tuxedo." He looked down at it and so missed the fierce blush that stained Lovino's cheeks as he looked away. "This is really classy. I feel so elegant." This made him remember that he wanted to paint Lovino in _his_ tux, and he kept his face turned down while he struggled to think of something else to say.

"Don't pay me back," Lovino finally told him. "Just forget about it. It was worth it to me. We – we've made more than enough to cover the cost of it, anyway."

"Thanks. Are we done here?"

"Yes. Would you like a ride home?"

"At this hour? Of course."

Lovino had driven a different car tonight. A classic Jaguar! It was a convertible, and although cold, the evening was clear. "Shall we put the top down, bastard?"

"Why not?" Arthur asked, smiling at the "bastard," so they did. "You have the best cars," he sighed as he snuggled back into the seat.

"This one doesn't get out much."

"Do – do you have any other ones?" Bloody hell, maybe Lovino had an entire _stable_ of sexy cars!

"No."

Oh.

"Well, not here. I have a couple in Italy."

"Do you miss it?"

"Italy? Ah, sometimes. When I'm here, I think about being there, and when I'm there, all I want is to – to get back here."

"I suppose that's the way with a lot of people."

"Ever been there?"

"Italy? No."

"Want to go?"

_What?_ "Wha – what do you mean?" He looked over at Lovino's red cheeks, but couldn't tell if that was from the cold air or nerves. If it was anything like he felt, then…probably a bit of both.

"I – I've been thinking; you said you had no real reason to go back to England for the holidays." Lovino didn't look at him. "I wondered whether you might want to spend them with – with me in Italy, if your other option was staying here all alone. But I understand, if you have plans, or if you don't want to do that. You probably don't want to spend any more time with me than you have to," he laughed.

But Arthur's eyes were wide. "You're really serious?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't serious, dammit."

"I would _love_ to go! Thank you!" Arthur really _would_ love to go. Italy was reputedly a very beautiful place, and –

Lovino gave a short, relieved laugh; by now they were pulling up outside Arthur's apartment. "We can talk about it later; we still have a few weeks to plan. Thank you for your help tonight. I'm – very pleased that everyone else liked your art as much as I do."

Here was the perfect opportunity to ask about his missing painting, but Arthur decided not to. It could wait. "Thank you for believing in me," he said, shaking Lovino's hand and getting out of the car. "I'll talk to you later."

His employer merely drove off, smiling a little, and Arthur scampered upstairs with a very light heart to think over all the things that had happened tonight.

…

_I did a lot of writing over winter break so I might have some quick updates in the next week or so, once I'm happy with the edits._


	24. Portrait of Lorenzo the Magnificent

**Portrait of Lorenzo the Magnificent.** (Giorgio Vasari, oil on wood, 16th century)

"I'm heading to New York for a couple of days." They were on the phone; it was Monday morning.

"Oh! Do you—" But the blond cut himself off.

Lovino didn't mind telling him part of the truth. "I have a business there. Normally I only visit twice a year, but I've been putting it off for a long time; I'm long overdue. I'll only be there until Wednesday."

"Do you fly up, or drive?"

"Neither. I usually take the train. I like the peace and quiet I can get, and it's not that long of a trip. Nobody really needs a car in New York, anyway." Speaking of cars reminded him that they'd spoken of the cars he kept in Italy, and that reminded him that they needed to discuss their Christmas plans. "When I get back, let's get together and talk about the holiday stuff, if you're still interested."

"I'm definitely still interested! Yes. I don't have anything going on this weekend; maybe we could – could have dinner somewhere and discuss it?" Arthur sounded a bit hesitant; this made Lovino smile.

"Sure. Pick a place. My treat."

"No. You – you've done so much for me; I want to treat this time. Yes?"

"Of course, if it makes you happy." He smiled a little more. "Pick someplace good, though!"

Arthur's voice was warm. "I will. So I'll talk to you when you get back?"

"Yeah, unless I need to call you from New York for any reason, but that's not likely unless something goes wrong. See you later."

When they'd hung up, Lovino sat back, still with that little smile on his face. His friend was so very _earnest_ sometimes.

He was heading to New York to sell the publishing house. It was still doing all right. Not a huge moneymaker, but not losing money, either. But he hadn't been lying when he said he'd been putting it off. He really hated New York, had always hated it. At first his interest in the publishing industry had helped him counteract that, but lately he just couldn't stand the idea of repeated trips up there. An old associate of his stepfather's had been interested in it for a very long time, so he'd decided to sell while he could. He finished packing and called a cab to take him to Union Station.

…

The transaction went smoothly. Lovino spent the rest of Tuesday wandering around New York, until he couldn't take it anymore, the noise, the crowds; he headed back to his hotel for dinner and then settled into his room to do some work. It would take a little while to realize the proceeds from the sale of the business and he needed to think about what to do with them. Invest them? Buy another business? He didn't have any specific ideas yet. Well, he'd just make some investments for now; something would occur to him eventually.

He then sent Feliciano an email, just to touch base. This, of course, led him to think again about that spontaneous invitation he'd extended to Arthur. He hadn't even realized he'd been thinking of it until it popped out of his mouth, but his friend was obviously quite interested, so he'd rolled with it. He hoped they could tolerate each other for an extended period of time. He sent Feli a second email telling him about these holiday plans.

Normally he only closed the gallery from Christmas to New Year's, but if they were going to share this vacation, he wanted to do it right. It wasn't fair to make Arthur work an extra week and then fly over alone, so he was going to close it from the 18th this year. He planned for them to stay only a week and a half, just in case they drove each other nuts, but of course, he was flexible. He could do his work anywhere.

He was very glad all that sketchbook shit seemed to be behind them. Lovino was now pretty optimistic about this trip to Italy. This Christmas might actually be different. Might be one to remember.

…

_Lorenzo de Medici was, of course, not only Italian, but a rich patron of the arts. Some scholars claim that his death allowed the Renaissance movement to shift from Florence (where he lived) to Rome. Lots of good reasons to use his portrait for this chapter._


	25. Dream City

**Dream City.** (Paul Klee, watercolor and oil, 1921)

The telephone rang, interrupting Arthur's packing. "Hello?"

"Kesesese! How are you, Artie?"

"Hello, Gilbert. I'm fine. Somewhat busy at the moment, though. How are you?"

"Eh, things are about as well as you might expect. Getting ready for vacation; man, I have a _ton_ of parties lined up. Want to get together this weekend? I thought you might like to go to one or two of these parties with me and wanted to talk to you about it. You don't socialize enough."

"Didn't I tell you? I'm going out of town for the holidays. Leaving tomorrow." Blast. Of course he hadn't told Gilbert. He did _not_ want to say he was going on holiday with Lovino. He'd never hear the end of it.

"No kidding! Where are you going? Back to England?"

"Er – just getting away for a while, yes." He held his breath while waiting for his friend's response. Had he bungled that too badly?

"Well, that's cool. Sorry we won't be able to do anything."

"What other plans do you have? Going out with the stripper?"

"Ah, no, she's been acting really funny lately. I decided to back off over the holidays, see if I really want to keep trying to date her. I really like her, but…it's kind of awkward."

"How about the Starbucks chap?"

"Nothing with him, either. Ah, forget it, Artie, I don't even want to talk about it; it's too depressing."

"Well, I need to finish packing. Thanks for thinking of me, though. You'll be all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything will be awesome. We have the office Christmas party coming up, and stuff; I already have a date for New Year's. No problems. I'll talk to you when you get back?"

"Yes, I'll call you then. Have a good holiday!"

"You too. See ya!"

Arthur hung up the phone. He didn't really have that much packing left to do. When he'd finished with it, he decided to spend some time cleaning his apartment. It couldn't hurt, and it was probably sensible to do it now. That way, he could come home to a nice clean place, instead of the usual rubbish dump.

He hummed and sang as he scrambled around straightening the messy apartment. Arthur loved seeing new places, and he was quite pleased that Lovino considered him enough of a friend now to have extended this invitation. Oh! That reminded him; he needed to pack Lovino's presents. He did this, and then went back to the cleaning. Forgetting them would have been incredibly stupid.

He didn't know much about the details of the vacation yet. Lovino had airily said "Leave it all to me, bastard," just telling him what clothing was appropriate to pack for the weather. So Arthur had done his best, trying to keep his curiosity under wraps, but…he was still quite intrigued. The last several times Arthur had traveled, he'd made all the arrangements himself. While that was not really a hardship, it was very liberating, this time, not to have to deal with it.

When the apartment was clean to his satisfaction (but not the workroom, because that would have been far too much effort), he sat down with a cup of tea and let himself daydream. It was quite late by now; their flight left at midmorning tomorrow. Lovino would be coming by in a cab around 7:30. Arthur supposed he ought to get some sleep.

He hoped this vacation wouldn't be stressful for either of them. He was planning to do his very best to remain calm and put Lovino at ease. He owed him that much, at least. Arthur put the teacup in the dishwasher and turned off the kitchen lights before showering and heading to bed.

…

_Well, the previous chapter was so short, and so is this one, so today is a two-for-one update bonus. _


	26. A Dream of Italy

**A Dream of Italy.** (Robert Scott Duncanson, oil on canvas, 1865)

They were on the plane. (Arthur was boyishly excited at the idea of flying first class. Lovino had been happy to give him this little early Christmas present.) "I – uh – have a favor to ask you, bastard," he said diffidently, once they'd settled in to their seats. He was extremely nervous about this, but had considered it from all angles and really felt it would be for the best. He – he trusted Arthur, but…

His friend seemed to sense his agitation and replied calmly, with a little smile. "Sure, ask whatever you like."

"I – well, you know I own the house near Rome which I'm trying to sell. I would rather that we stayed in my – in a hotel, instead of in the house, because the agents occasionally want to take people through it, and I'd rather not have to deal with making sure we've cleaned everything up, and all that, every time we leave the house."

This was not the whole story. Lovino didn't want Arthur to see the grand house, the formal gardens, the resident staff members. Arthur hadn't even seen his townhouse in Alexandria, where he lived alone, and that was pretty plain compared to his Italian place. He held his breath.

"Will we be able to get a hotel this late?" was Arthur's only response, and Lovino let his breath out, relieved. "Or did you already make reservations?"

No, he hadn't, but he didn't need to; he had a room permanently reserved for emergencies. "Yes, it's all taken care of."

"That's fine with me, then. I don't want to cause any inconvenience for you at all. You're already doing so much for me."

"If you're sure?"

"Yes, I just said, it's not a problem, g—"

Arthur had been doing that a lot lately. Lovino wondered, not for the first time, what word he was cutting off.

For the rest of the flight they chatted amiably about things having nothing to do with art or Washington. Lovino spoke of the area around Rome where he'd grown up. Arthur asked some very sensible questions about sightseeing and history. They discussed Arthur's home and upbringing in England; they talked about other places they'd seen.

After a while, the noise of the engines lulled them both to sleep.

…

Lovino smacked his hand down on the concierge desk and growled. He'd been speaking to the young woman in rapid Italian, which Arthur didn't understand, but it was clear from almost the beginning of the conversation that something was going quite, quite wrong. Lovino was angry and red and the young woman was looking terrified.

Perhaps he could help? Arthur reached out and touched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Er – Lovino -–"

This seemed to be enough to break the brunet's concentration. He looked away from the concierge, who gave Arthur a very grateful look.

"Uh." Lovino let all his breath out at once. "Yeah." He took a few more deep breaths, raising his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What – what's wrong?"

"They don't have enough room for us."

"I thought you'd made a reservation?" Arthur turned to the concierge in confusion. No wonder Lovino was angry.

"_Chigi_! I just – oh, dammit, forget it. Come on, we'll stay at my house." He picked up his luggage, said something vitriolic in Italian to the concierge, and stomped off towards the door to catch a cab.

Arthur gave the girl an apologetic smile, picked up his own suitcase, and followed.

…

"Th—this is your _house_?" Arthur breathed weakly.

"Yes, dammit," Lovino muttered; _dammit_, he'd known this was a bad idea. Why hadn't he considered this? And the hotel! Even the room they were supposed to _never book_ – they'd _booked it!_ _Chigi!_ This vacation was the stupidest thing he'd ever thought of doing. He was going to have sharp words with the hotel manager one of these days. Dammit, maybe he should sell the fucking _hotel,_ too! Why not? He was selling off every other damn thing he owned. Maybe he _would_ chuck it all and be a hermit.

Lovino led the way into the foyer and his butler came forward, surprised. "I'm sorry to spring this on you," he explained tersely, trying to put the disturbing sight of the gawking Arthur out of his peripheral vision. "The hotel had rented out all the rooms. _All_ of them."

The butler, who knew Lovino kept a room on permanent reserve, frowned subtly, but simply offered to send a housemaid to prepare their rooms.

"Yes, thank you. This is my friend, Arthur Kirkland. Please put him in the green bedroom." The butler nodded politely to Arthur and slipped away on stealthy feet to accomplish his mission.

"Leave your luggage here," Lovino told him. "Come into the parlor while they get things ready for us."

Arthur walked into the parlor with him, and Lovino could see he was trying not to stare. Well, at least he was making an effort.

They sank onto the sofa. "Dammit. I'm sorry about all this. Things just aren't going as I'd planned."

"Trips rarely do. I'm flexible. Don't worry about it. I'm just happy to be here with you – for – for the holiday." Then he fiddled with the buttons on his coat before saying, "I've not been involved in too many real estate transactions before, so I'm not very familiar with the process. Are there – are there a lot of people around here who might be interested in it? Or do you think it will take a long time to sell? It's already been on the market for a while, right? Has there been a lot of interest?"

Lovino's eyes widened a bit. Arthur's matter-of-fact conversation was already distancing him from the hotel problems. That was good; he needed the distraction. "There haven't been many people through it yet, it's true; spring is the best time of year for real estate sales around here. I'm not too worried. For a place like this, you have to expect it will be on the market for a few years before the right buyer comes along." Hm. Maybe he'd been wrong about Arthur gawking. He was relaxed back on the sofa and watching Lovino, not staring at the big, ornate room.

"Well, I hope it works out best for you, soon. Have you always lived here? I mean, did you grow up in this house?"

Lovino frowned; he couldn't remember whether he'd ever discussed his family life with his friend.

Apparently Arthur mistook his frown for irritation. "I'm sorry. Please…I'll try to stop being so intrusive. It's just – you –"

"You're not being intrusive," he finally said, leaning back himself. "I'm still pissed off because of the damn hotel, and probably still a little tired from the flight. That's all."

"I don't like it when you get angry. It – it scares me."

"Scares you?" This was intriguing. "How?" Lovino kept his eyes on his friend, even though he was blushing and looking away. "I wouldn't hurt you; there's nothing for you to be scared of."

"Not scared for _me_. I worry about you. You seem _so bloody angry_, so much of the time. I wish there was something I could do to help you be less tense."

"Cheh. I've been like this all my life. I – I have to be."

"But why?" Arthur's bright green eyes looked at him with concern.

"Dammit. I don't want to get into that now. But – but you do help. I mostly feel – pretty relaxed around you." Here, he saw a smile appear on his friend's face. "I wouldn't have invited you to come with me otherwise."

"That's good," Arthur said, and just then the butler came back to tell Lovino the rooms were ready. They got up and walked into the foyer again.

"Where's my suitcase?" Arthur asked in surprise.

"In your room," Lovino said, laughing at the look on his face. "Come on. Things may be a little different for you while we're here, but…you should try to enjoy it."

The only reply Arthur made was to raise his eyebrows. Lovino led him upstairs to show him to his bedroom.

…

Later they dined at a small casual restaurant and then went for a walk around the area; it was a nice clear evening. "I need to ask your help with something, as long as we're here. I mean, staying at the house."

"Of course. I'll help you in any way I can, you know that."

Lovino turned a little red, but…yes, he _did_ know that. Sort of. He was still a little troubled about asking, though; he knew he was about to lose all the artistic credibility he'd ever had. "I. Uh. Well, if the house ever sells, I'm going to need to do something with all the things inside it. The furniture, I may offer to the new owners, for them to purchase along with the house, but…the artworks," here he rubbed his hand over his face, "the artworks, I want to either sell separately, or – or take back to the gallery, or something. Donate to a museum. I don't know. I don't know what to do with them, and I don't know which ones to keep and which ones aren't worth it. Will you – can we go through the house together and look at everything, and maybe you can help me? I don't trust my eye enough to know about this stuff."

Arthur turned and looked at him, Lovino could tell, even though he kept looking down at the ground as they walked. But all his friend said was "I'll be happy to help."

They went a little further before Lovino remembered to thank him.

Another block of walking and Arthur cleared his throat. "So, I have to ask…" But apparently he couldn't.

"What?" Lovino hoped it wouldn't be something uncomfortable.

"Er – are we going to decorate for Christmas?" The blond turned a sheepish smile on his friend.

Lovino burst out laughing in relief and clapped him on the shoulder. "Bastard, if you want to decorate, we'll decorate. All right? Tree, lights, garlands, the whole shebang."

"Well, I wouldn't want to go overboard. There's a fine line between tasteful and tacky."

Lovino just kept laughing. "No problem. You can be in charge of the whole deal. Whatever you want. All right?"

Arthur laughed, too, at that. "Cheers. Well, we need a tree, yes, but…I think it would be nice to do a big, ornate tree, and not have decorations anywhere else. Would that work?"

"Sure; it'll be a bit easier to deal with than having the servants rush all over the house hanging things up."

"Oh." Arthur's face fell. "I – I meant, you and I decorate, together. Not – not the servants. I forgot." He swallowed and his voice got meek. "I don't want to do it, if you're just going to tell the servants to do everything. I'm sorry, I should have said."

Dammit, now he felt like a jerk. Lovino didn't know what to say. He settled for "I didn't understand."

They walked on; this time, Arthur was looking at the ground, and Lovino up at the sky, thinking. He hadn't personally been involved in the Christmas decorations since he was about twelve years old – the year his mother had remarried. What the hell. Maybe it was a good idea. He knew all those old Christmas things were in an attic somewhere. They'd never been considered appropriate for his stepfather's grand, glittering trees, which had pissed off the young Lovino the first time he'd tried to hang them. And the second time, and the third. After that, he'd just given up and sulked every year. Dammit.

"Listen," he said, stopping in his tracks. "Let's do it. I have – have plenty of things to decorate with." He didn't want to send the servants up to the attics to rummage around for that stuff. Hmm. "We'll have to go up into the attics; there are a few certain boxes of ornaments I want to find, but we can do that tomorrow morning, and then put up a tree in the afternoon?"

Arthur was looking at him with a sweet smile he'd only seen once before, a smile that made his friend look like a hesitant, trusting child. Dammit, he couldn't keep looking at him; that smile could break his heart.

"Thank you, Lovino. You're being so good to me. We'll have the nicest tree you ever saw, I promise."

They walked on. "Don't get your hopes up. Some of these ornaments I want to use are old and kind of – of shabby."

"But the old ones are always best! They have sentimental value. I used to live near a family that would buy a tree every year and decorate it with these _themes_ – you know – one year it was all Victorian decorations. Very pretty, but…and then one year it was all magical creatures. Unicorns and fairies and things. I just think it should be more – more spontaneous, and have a little bit of tradition."

"Maybe the tradition is them thinking of a theme and then shopping for the things to fit the theme. As long as the family's doing it all together, that's good, right?"

"Eh. Maybe. To each his own. So where will we get a tree? Your parlor is very big; is that where you put the tree?"

"Yes, over in the corner by the door to the dining room." He thought about this. "I don't even know where to get a tree around here. I'm sure we'll find a place."

"I'm excited. I haven't decorated a tree in a bloody long time."

"I'm kind of excited, too, now, bastard." And he was.

…


	27. Self Portrait in Hell

**Self-Portrait in Hell.** (Edvard Munch, oil on canvas, 1903)

It was Christmas Eve. Arthur felt a little nervous. Lovino's dear friend Feliciano was coming to dinner this evening. He knew the two of them had been friends for a very long time; he was nervous about how he'd appear to Lovino's friend. Didn't want to look like a leech, most importantly.

He did sort of _feel_ like one, of course. Lovino had paid for his first-class ticket and was treating him to all these interesting things they'd been doing – showing him around the tourist jaunts, meals, concerts, all that. He'd dismissively said "Count it as your Christmas present, bastard," and Arthur had tried to do so, rather uneasily. But he definitely wasn't trying to take advantage of Lovino's generosity. Several times he'd offered to pay for things, but his friend wouldn't hear of it. And really, everything he had now, he owed to Lovino anyway, when you got right down to it. His salary…the income from his paintings…bloody hell. He just didn't know how to deal with it, or what to say.

His friend had told him not to get dressed up this evening. After they'd spent the day wandering around the beautiful formal grounds and enjoying each other's company, they'd split up to rest a little before the dinner. Arthur was dressed in casual clothing – a festive red cashmere sweater and jeans – and seriously hoped he wouldn't embarrass Lovino with any gauche behavior. A few times he'd thought of crossing to his bedroom and seeking approval for his outfit, but…bollocks. He was a grown man! He should just wear it and be confident.

So he lay back on the bed to kill some time, looking at the beautiful room. He wondered whether some professional decorator had put it together. Wallpapered in light green watered silk, it seemed as though each item in it had been perfectly selected, from the furniture to the rugs, mirrors and artworks. He looked at those critically; these weren't great, but they were all right.

This led him to wonder why Lovino had been so hesitant to ask for his help with the artworks. As soon as he'd seated himself in the parlor that first day, he'd noticed a few bare patches on the walls, bare patches whose size roughly corresponded with some of the new artworks they'd uncrated at the gallery. So he'd understood right away where all those new things had come from. But he couldn't figure out what bothered his friend so much about them.

But, as usual, he would wait for Lovino to explain himself, rather than pry.

He still felt very self-conscious in general, here in this big, ornate house. A butler! A cook! He knew there must be a maid, or maids, too, because someone made his bed every day. Sometimes he wondered how anybody could stand living this way, with no privacy. Maybe that was why his friend was so withdrawn. He'd never yet been to Lovino's home in Washington, and wondered if he lived like this over there. It would explain why he was so often irritable – and why he'd never invited Arthur over. Lovino had definitely not wanted Arthur to see this place; that much had been obvious.

There was a soft knock on his door – too tentative to be the blasted butler – so he called out, "Come in," and Lovino walked in.

Arthur got up off the bed and presented himself for inspection, looking at his friend's similar casualwear and finally feeling comfortable. "Do I look all right?"

"Cheh, yes, you look fine, bastard. Feli's not the fashion police. Come on, let's go downstairs."

…

They were seated in the parlor, waiting. Arthur had declined the offer of a drink; he was already nervous and didn't want to be silly from liquor when Feliciano arrived. Lovino had poured himself a glass of Scotch, but he didn't seem to be drinking it. They didn't speak much. Arthur spent his time dreamily looking at the Christmas tree they'd decorated.

It looked beautiful, to his eyes. Yes, the ornaments were old, but they looked well-loved, so he had understood they were from his friend's childhood and had treated them respectfully. He'd been quite surprised to spend the day laughing and joking. Lovino hadn't been angry at all, the day they'd put up the tree. Introspective at times, but Arthur supposed that was only natural, when these old holiday memories started coming out. He liked to see that relaxed, happier Lovino. He liked it _a lot. _And he was hoping tonight's visit with Feliciano would be relaxing and enjoyable, too.

Then they heard voices at the front door and Lovino stood up. Arthur stood up too, as the butler, holding a wine bottle, ushered in a petite auburn-haired man who launched himself at Lovino with a glad cry, and a tall, imposing blond with a harsh mien.

"Lovi!" The shorter man hugged Lovino. Arthur guessed this was Feliciano. He wondered who the other chap was. Lovino hadn't mentioned any other guests.

Keeping his arm around his friend, Lovino brought him over to introduce to Arthur. "This is my oldest friend, Feliciano," he said, in a very soft voice. "And Feli, this is my – my newest friend, Arthur." He blushed fiercely and looked away.

"Ve, Arthur, I'm very happy to meet you! Lovi's told me so much about you already!"

Lovino muttered, "Chigi!" and let go of him, but his old friend didn't seem to hear, or else didn't care; he just grinned as he reached for Arthur's hand.

"Likewise," Arthur said, smiling and shaking his hand. He couldn't help flicking his eyes towards the tall blond man, though.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Ludwig, please come here. You know Lovino, of course, and this is Arthur! Ludwig is my boyfriend," he offered matter-of-factly. Ludwig, who by now was shaking Arthur's hand, turned red, and out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Lovino turn away.

"Pleased to meet you," Arthur said politely, wondering what was disturbing his friend. Perhaps he and Ludwig didn't get along, or maybe Lovino thought he wasn't good enough for Feliciano.

"Come in, idiot, sit down. You too, po—Ludwig."

"It has been a very long time since we've seen each other, Lovino," Ludwig offered. He had a heavy German accent.

"I know, dammit. Excuse me a minute." He stepped out of the room for a moment and came back scrubbing his hands through his hair again. Uh-oh. Looked like they were in for a difficult night already. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Nothing for me, ve. I'll wait and have some of the wine with dinner. Ludi?"

"Yes, thank you. Lovino; do you have Scotch?"

"Yes, of course I do. You drink it neat, right?"

Ludwig agreed and Lovino got him a drink. They all moved further into the room. Arthur took a chair so that Feliciano could sit next to Lovino on the sofa, deciding to keep quiet for a while unless someone asked him a direct question. Ludwig also took a chair.

"So how was your trip, ve? Is everything going well?"

"Cheh, yes, except the stupid—yes, whatever, everything's going fine."

"The weather's been good, at least," Ludwig offered.

"Yes, yes, I know." Lovino seemed much more shirty than usual when he spoke to Ludwig. Arthur wondered what bothered him so much. Maybe he didn't approve of men dating. But of course, since his dear friend Feliciano was doing it, he'd almost have to approve.

"Arthur, are you enjoying your trip? Lovi told me this is your first time in Italy, ve! You should make him take you to all the tourist places. We have so much beautiful art and architecture."

"We've done a lot of tourist things already. Lovino has been great about making sure I see as much of Rome as possible." Arthur smiled, but felt himself turning a little red, and even without looking, he could tell his friend was blushing. Yes. Lovino ran his hand over his face, a certain sign.

"Shut up, dammit," he said, looking away, and Arthur and Feliciano exchanged a tiny, complicit smile.

"Ve, whatever you say!"

For a little while they talked of nothing much; the season, the gallery, various happenings in Washington and in Rome. "Have you been swimming yet?" Feliciano asked Arthur.

"Swimming? Where?"

"Lovi has a pool, ve, he didn't show you? It's downstairs!"

"We didn't go in the pool yet, dammit," Lovino muttered. "Maybe – maybe this week." He looked very uncomfortable.

"I just thought since you and Arthur were doing all these tourist things, you might want to relax here at home once in a while. Swimming is a great way to relax," Feliciano pointed out.

"Whatever!" Lovino, red-faced, changed the subject. "So when are you going to come visit me, idiot?"

"I don't know. It depends when I can get time off work. Maybe in the summertime?"

"Sure. Pick a date and come see me. I'm tired of always having to come to Italy to see you."

"But you still have to—"

"Never mind, Feli. Please. Forget I said anything; we can talk about it later. All right?"

"Ve~."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Ludwig tried to break it. "Have you two exchanged your Christmas presents yet?"

This actually sent Arthur into a panic. He assumed – he _hoped_ – Lovino hadn't actually bought him a present, since he'd been treating him to so many things on this trip. He had brought those two small presents for his friend, but…

Arthur looked over at Lovino, and he looked a bit panicky too.

"We – we have not, yet," Arthur said, to break the tension.

Thankfully, just then the butler came in to announce that dinner was served.

When he walked past the Christmas tree, Feliciano stopped in shock. "Ve! Lovi! You have all the old ornaments out, how beautiful." He reached his delicate fingers to stroke a painted wooden snowman. "Remember when we painted these?" he asked softly.

"I remember," Lovino replied in an equally low tone. He hugged his friend, who gave him a fond, understanding smile.

Arthur was happy to hear that exchange. He hoped Lovino could begin to relax, now.

…

Unfortunately, dinner was agonizing, despite the cheerful attempts of Feliciano to engage everyone in conversation. Arthur did his best – mostly to try to keep the social pressure off Lovino, whose fuse was getting almost visibly shorter – but felt slightly unequal to the task, being unfamiliar with both the guests and still nervous around the servants. Lovino fidgeted, avoided meeting anyone's eyes, answered questions abruptly and hollered at the servants for the tiniest mistakes. Ludwig had become monosyllabic.

The dinner ended with a delicious zabaglione. Arthur savored it; this was a type of dessert he'd never eaten before. Both Feliciano and Ludwig seemed to be enjoying it as well, but Lovino only took two bites before pushing the dish away. Bloody hell, Arthur hoped this dinner would be over soon. It was almost physically painful to see Lovino in such distress.

When the meal had ended, Feliciano had the wisdom to cut the evening short. "Ve, it's Christmas eve, and Ludwig and I don't want to take up your whole evening. Rest up, all right? I'll call you soon, in a few days." He moved to embrace his friend, and Arthur watched Lovino hug him very tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. Feliciano stroked his hair soothingly a few times before drawing back. "All right, Lovi?" he asked softly. Lovino nodded.

"Merry Christmas," Arthur offered, as they all walked to the front door together. He shook hands with both the departing men, but Feliciano grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.

"Take care of him, Arthur," he whispered, too low for either of the others to hear. "Be good to him." Arthur nodded subtly.

When they stepped apart, smiling at each other, Lovino hugged Feliciano and then, obviously uninterested, shook Ludwig's hand. Feliciano took his boyfriend's hand and led him down the steps with a final wave.

Lovino shut the door behind them, exhaling noisily. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't – don't apologize. I could see it was very stressful for you."

The brunet looked near to tears. "Will you sit up with me for a while? I always like to stay up late on Christmas Eve. We – we could make a fire?"

"Of course I will," Arthur said softly. "Would you like me to wait in the parlor?"

His friend just nodded. "Th-that's fine." He stayed leaning against the door as Arthur went back into the parlor.


	28. La Notte

**La Notte.** (Antonio da Correggio, oil on canvas, 1530, also known as **Holy Night, or the Adoration of the Shepherds**)

Lovino rested against the front door for a few more minutes. He was intensely grateful for Arthur's empathy tonight. Of course he'd known how hostile he'd been acting – blame the uninvited potato bastard, dammit – but he'd also seen quite clearly how hard Feliciano and Arthur had been working to smooth things over. He ran his hands through his hair, breathing deeply, trying to get rid of the tension inside him before going back into the parlor. He hoped sitting up with his friend would help him relax some more.

No, he couldn't totally blame the potato eater for tonight. After all, Feli had brought him; he wasn't mad at his old friend at all. Simply because he was always tense around that macho Germanic bastard – ah, he needed to stop thinking about that or he'd get all keyed up again. But Feliciano! Why had he mentioned the swimming pool? Dammit, now he was going to have to show Arthur the pool, and – and swim with him, if he wanted to – Lovino took a few deep breaths, resolving to think about all this later, not now. He needed to calm down first.

In the parlor, Arthur was on the sofa, dreamily looking at the wall over the fireplace. But why? There was nothing there except a big empty patch where a painting had been.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, trying to use a normal conversational tone, coming to join his friend.

"That's where the big landscape was, isn't it?" Arthur turned to him with a grin. "I've been playing a game, guessing which paintings were hanging in which spot."

Lovino frowned a little, and this made Arthur frown. "What's wrong?" the blond asked.

"You knew?"

"Knew what? That the paintings came from this house? Not until we got here. But it's kind of obvious, isn't it? You were very evasive about where they'd come from, hinting they weren't from dealers, and besides, we spent so much time working with them that night; I'm not likely to forget any of them! All their sizes and shapes are still fresh in my head."

Lovino was floored. Here his friend was being so matter-of-fact about this issue that had tormented him for weeks! Months, if he was honest with himself. He gave Arthur a weak smile and looked away. "Yeah, that's where the landscape was."

"Why didn't you want to tell me this?"

He took a deep breath. Hell, he might as well tell him. He owed the bastard that much for his help tonight, no matter how ineffectual it had been. That was all Lovino's fault. "Partially, I felt discredited," he admitted, watching Arthur's face for a reaction. "That those things – all things that my mother and stepfather had collected, or even things that had been in the family before them – that I hadn't actually chosen any of them. I know they're valuable, and that collectors say they're beautiful, but…I can't trust myself deciding about stuff like that. I just – I thought you'd find it, I don't know, ignorant, dammit." He looked away.

"You're too bloody critical of yourself. Even if you think you have failings as an art connoisseur – which I don't think you do – you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. If it's that important to you, then work on improving. If it's not, then don't bother."

"Well, of course you'd say I'm good. I like _your_ art." But he was smiling now, already much more at ease.

Arthur snorted. "You know that isn't what I meant." He looked over towards the fireplace again. "Did you say we'd light a fire? That would be very nice, here in front of the big windows. I built it up, but didn't light it; I was waiting for you."

This made Lovino feel a little sentimental. "Bastard. I have servants for that."

"Why make the servants do that? It only took me a minute. Let them have their Christmas Eve to themselves. Besides, I haven't lived in a house with a fireplace for a very long time. I'm looking forward to it."

Lovino shrugged and moved to light the fire. "If you really didn't mind—"

"I didn't! Er – may I ask you a favor?"

"Of course you can ask. What?"

"May we lie on the floor in front of the fire? I like to do that." He blushed and looked down at his fingers.

"Yeah, sure. Grab some pillows off the sofa."

They arranged themselves comfortably with pillows and stared into the nascent fire for a minute.

Lovino was feeling reassured by their conversation already, so he thought he might as well confess something else. "Plus I didn't tell you where I got those paintings, because I didn't want you to know – know how wealthy I am. I thought if you – if I led you to think they were from dealers, or galleries, it wouldn't be so – so – I don't know, showy_, _dammit. But that kind of got ruined when we had to come stay in the house, instead of in the fucking hotel."

Arthur was giving him a very funny look. "Git. You're a complete idiot!" As soon as he'd said this, he clapped a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes, pushing his face into his pillow. "Sorry," he muttered. "So sorry."

But Lovino was laughing. "Is that what you've been trying to hold back all this time? That's hilarious." He kept laughing for a while. "Go ahead; call me a git, or an idiot, if you want. I don't care. But tell me why."

Arthur visibly relaxed, but still gave him the funny look. "You really think I didn't know how wealthy you are? You have a personal tailor! That alone was enough to clue me in, never mind the gallery and the sexy cars, the repeated business trips to Europe. I didn't need to come to Italy to know all that. And I…kind of suspect you have something to do with that hotel, don't you?"

Lovino rolled onto his side and stared at his friend with his jaw dropped. "How the hell did you figure that out? Do you speak Italian?"

"No, but anybody should have figured that out. You got _bloody_ pissed off when they didn't have a room. More than a regular patron should have done. I just figured you probably owned that place too; it seemed appropriate for how brutally you were yelling at her." He shrugged and looked back at the fire. "You should go apologize."

"Son of a bitch," Lovino breathed, and that made them both laugh a little. "Yeah, I should. I have a room permanently reserved there; sometimes I need the space for a client or whatever, and they'd booked it. I couldn't believe it."

"Well, it's probably better this way. At least we each have our own room." Arthur turned a little red, staring into the fire, and Lovino had to restrain himself from smacking himself in the forehead. Dammit, he hadn't even considered that. Then he felt himself blushing, too. He pushed his face down into the pillow, too, feeling like the idiot Arthur had so rightly called him. After a few deep breaths he felt under control again and raised his head, propping his chin on the pillow.

"So are – are you feeling better? Calmer?" Arthur then asked. "You weren't expecting Feliciano to bring Ludwig, I know. It was easy to see that you have some – some problem with him. I – I'm not trying to pry. I just noticed it, that's all, and I was…er…distressed that you had to deal with that."

"Dammit. I didn't invite him, and I hate unexpected changes to plans. I - it's like my brain freezes up, and I don't know what to do. Plus he in particular drives me nuts. But it's all right now; don't worry about me. All right?"

"If you say so."

They watched the fire companionably for a while. Lovino decided to bring up something he'd been thinking about for a while. "Listen, I – you know you said you'd help me with the artworks?"

Arthur nodded.

"I…if there are any that you really love, I'd – be happy for you to have one or two. As a gift. I gave one to Feli when I was here before, and I know you'd – you'd appreciate them properly, too. Will you accept that from me?" He watched Arthur carefully; he strongly felt the urge to present his friend with something from this vast collection, and he'd also be interested in seeing just what Arthur might choose.

But – "I couldn't do that, Lovino, you know that. These things – they're so – so –" He fell silent and looked up at the walls again. "And then – you know I have no place to display something like this. Stacking it in my messy apartment with my canvases is just…silly." He turned and gave Lovino a little smile. "I appreciate the offer – I know you made it in earnest, but…I can't."

Everything Arthur said was true, but it still made Lovino sad. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded and looked back to the fire. "Maybe – maybe you can pick out the one you like best, and we can put it in the gallery? At least then I'd know you had the enjoyment of looking at it." Maybe this would work.

"That's a good idea. Yes, I don't mind that."

"Do you have one in mind?"

"Not yet. I mean – I mean, everything's very nice, but there isn't anything that's leaped out at me and caught at my heart."

"That's all right. If you see something when we're going through them, though, let me know."

"Fair enough." Arthur got up and threw another log on the fire.

"Would you like a drink?" Lovino eventually asked, but his friend declined.

A little while later Lovino apologized for not contributing much to the conversation.

"I don't mind. It's nice to lie here peacefully in front of the big fire, to wind down a little. Thanks again for inviting me. This has been an awesome trip so far." Arthur laid his head sideways on the pillow, looking at Lovino with that adorable smile.

Dammit. Once again Lovino felt like he was about to burst into tears. He shut his eyes and rested his chin on the pillow he was so fiercely hugging. "Don't. Just – stop."

Arthur stopped.

Later, after they'd built up the fire a bit more, Lovino tried to thank his friend for his help during Feli and Ludwig's visit. "I could see you were trying hard to – to make the atmosphere easier. Thanks."

"I was just worried about you!" Then Arthur closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Sorry. Did it again."

"I told you not to worry about that. Everybody's always treating me with kid gloves. It's – well, I kind of like having someone talk back to me." He grinned.

"You really are serious!"

"Yes, I really am. So, don't worry about it. You want to yell at me, yell. All right?"

"Well…all right." Arthur looked doubtful.

"Anyway, don't worry about me. You know I have a fucking awful temper. It's not likely to change now. I'm too old to go around trying to be nicey-nice all the time."

"You're right, I can't quite envision that," Arthur said in mock seriousness, and they both laughed.

…

A little while later, Arthur woke up; when he got oriented, he felt stupid for having fallen asleep here on the floor, and hoped Lovino wouldn't be too upset with him. The fire had subsided somewhat. He turned his face to his friend and saw that he too had fallen asleep. Someone – presumably the bloody butler – had turned off the lights and covered them both with a blanket.

Lovino's face in repose was peaceful. Arthur felt an urge to kiss him on the forehead, a good night kiss, but of course he didn't act on that. He did reach out and lightly stroke his friend's hair. Just once. It was very nice to know he was relaxed enough to sleep here next to Arthur.

He curled up under the blanket and went back to sleep.

…

When Lovino awoke he was confused. The room was dark and cold, but he was warm; he was – on the floor? Oh, yeah. He and Arthur had been lying in front of the fire. Why was he so warm? Aha, he was under a blanket.

_Oh._ Arthur was lying snuggled up against him! Lovino forced himself not to panic; he didn't want to wake his friend. He took some deep breaths, looking at him in the moonlight. Arthur's hair was sticking up all over. The bastard actually looked really cute – like a – like a fluffy-headed little kid. Lovino smiled.

He was surprised at how tranquil he felt and spent a little time thinking about this, debating whether to wake Arthur so they could go to their beds, or stay here and let him sleep.

Ah, what the hell; they were comfortable, and warm. There was no reason at all to disturb him. Lovino smiled at him again and let himself sink back into sleep.

...

_Thanks to everyone who is enjoying the story._


	29. Orion in Winter

**Orion in Winter. **(Charles Burchfield, watercolor and pencil, 1962)

They'd awakened in the parlor, no longer cuddled together, a little stiff from sleeping on the floor all night. Lovino had showered and gone to morning Mass, explaining that while he didn't feel particularly religious, he always liked to attend on Christmas morning. He'd invited his friend, but Arthur, not Catholic, felt uncomfortable with the idea. He had also thought Lovino might enjoy the time alone after the stressful dinner last night. When he came back, Arthur intended to give him his presents. He'd already placed them under the tree. He still hoped Lovino hadn't bought him anything in return, though.

Now, after his own shower, Arthur was wandering the house alone (the servants were all off for the day, visiting family), somewhat inattentively gazing at the various furnishings and art, prior to the walkthrough they were going to do. He still hadn't seen anything he really loved.

He spent a little time thinking about Lovino's offer of a gift from this art collection. He – he really needed to talk to him about all this generosity. Gilbert's words about being a "kept man" continued to resonate in his head, and while, of course, he didn't have that kind of relationship with Lovino, he was definitely still uncomfortable about all his friend's lavish spending and offers of gifts.

His footsteps took him into the library, a room he'd only vaguely paid attention to when Lovino had first shown him around the house. He walked inside, eyes scanning the walls, and then he saw it. He saw a painting he would definitely have chosen, if he hadn't already said no. Arthur stepped closer to examine it.

In the style of Gainsborough, the smallish portrait showed a laughing young boy with long dark curly hair, perhaps ten years old, in a somber black velvet suit, looking off to the side of the viewer. He was seated on the ground, with one arm around a large black seated dog and the other hand holding a red ball to draw the eye. The boy and dog were on a mountaintop, backlit by the sunset…it was a very captivating painting. Arthur spent some time studying it, moving closer to see the brushwork, looking at the delicate shading of the sunset and the light on the fabric and the dog's fur. He wondered who had painted it. There was no signature. It probably wasn't a real Gainsborough, but maybe one of his students…?

Well, he'd definitely ask Lovino to take this one back to the gallery, unless he saw something better. This was an extraordinary painting. He spent quite a bit of time studying it, admiring it.

…

When Lovino got back, Arthur was in the parlor, reading on the sofa.

"Merry Christmas, bastard."

Arthur snorted. "How can you come home from Mass and start calling me 'bastard' right away? Aren't you supposed to be acting holy?"

"That's never going to change, so, forget it. Did you amuse yourself while I was gone?"

"Yes. I hope you don't mind, I wandered around the downstairs and looked at some of the artworks."

"See anything you like?" Lovino joined him on the sofa.

"Well, yes, but that can wait. Did you enjoy Mass?"

"Yeah, it was nice. They had a children's choir singing. Sometimes I like them, and sometimes their little voices are just too squeaky for me to deal with…but today it was all right." He smiled at Arthur.

"That's good." The blond fidgeted, thinking about the presents under the tree, but not wanting to be pushy. "Er."

"What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

"Er, no – I – er – well, I just want to give you your Christmas presents! That's all." He stopped fidgeting and looked at the tree. "Sorry. I feel a bit dopey."

But Lovino was looking at him in surprise. "You didn't need to get me any presents!"

"Rubbish," Arthur retorted, and then bit his lip, but Lovino started laughing again. "I mean, of course I did. You're being too bloody generous to me, Lovino, and it – it kind of worries me a little. And anyway, I wanted to give you these things."

"Well, then, bring them over here, if it makes you happy. I have a little something for you, too. Wait here."

"What? No, you—" But Lovino was already out of the room. Blast it. Didn't he understand anything Arthur had said? Well, they'd need to have a real conversation about it. After they exchanged presents, of course.

He took the two gifts over to the sofa and set them down. Before he could get himself in any more of a flap over this, Lovino came back in with a small package and sat next to him again.

"Merry Christmas," he laughed again, handing Arthur the package.

Arthur gave him the smaller of his two wrapped gifts. "Merry Christmas."

He waited until Lovino had opened the package to find a beautiful pair of cognac-colored leather gloves. "You – dammit, Arthur, I told you I keep losing gloves!" Then he stopped, ran his hand over his face, and said, "No. I'm sorry. Thank you for the gift, but…did you forget?"

"No, I did _not_ forget. But I thought that maybe if you had gloves that were a _gift_ from someone, instead of gloves you bought yourself, maybe you would be more attentive about not losing them?"

Lovino's eyes widened. "That's – that may actually work. Huh."

"Try them on."

He did so. "Great fit. How did you know?"

"I cheated. I asked your tailor."

He burst into loud laughter and patted Arthur's arm; he was still wearing the gloves. "Good idea. They're really nice, too, flexible and soft but still warm. Thanks." Lovino flexed his hands a few times, then gestured to Arthur's gift before taking them off and setting them aside.

Arthur hesitantly opened the package to find a beautiful set of kolinsky watercolor brushes. "Oh! Thank you. You – you remembered that I like to paint watercolors," he said in a softer tone. "Thanks." Then he turned red and began fiddling with the brush package.

"What's the matter with you now?"

"Nh. Nothing, I – here." He grabbed the other gift from the seat next to him and thrust it at his friend. Then he got up and started pacing. He wasn't sure he could meet Lovino's eyes when he opened this one.

He heard the wrapping crunching as his friend ripped it away, and then there was a silence.

"Arthur –" Lovino's voice had that same soft tone he'd used when viewing Arthur's paintings for the first time. "This – this is exquisite. Like a little jewel…"

Arthur turned and saw him bent over the small watercolor painting. He had painted it almost in a dream last month. It wasn't until it had been nearly finished that he'd realized what he'd been painting.

When he'd asked Lovino what had happened to his painting of the dark bird in the bleak tree, his friend had said he'd sold it before the reception. But eventually, while he'd been working on this watercolor, Arthur had realized this was the same bird, the same tree, but in springtime; the tree budding, the bird perched on a branch, looking cheeky. He liked it a lot, even though his control with watercolors was still a little off, and it sounded like Lovino liked it too.

"Is – is this a new painting? You – did you –"

The relief made Arthur garrulous. "Yes, it's new. I painted it after the reception. When – when you were in New York. I hadn't done any watercolor painting in a long time, and I just sat down with the paper and started to paint. I didn't even know what I wanted to paint, didn't intend it to be a gift for you, just an exercise in painting. But – it – well…when it was done, I…really wanted to give it to you." He turned red and started pacing again, a little more sedately this time.

"It's beautiful…but, that's what I would have expected from you, with your talent." Lovino's voice was a bit gruff. "Thank you. I – I'll put it – " He stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Stop pacing around, dammit, you're making me nervous."

So Arthur came back and sat on the sofa, and Lovino reached out to briefly squeeze his hand. "Thank you."

Arthur smiled at his friend, quite relieved.

…

Later, after a quick lunch (they'd agreed not to bother trying to make a fancy Christmas meal), Lovino suggested a walk. He could see Arthur still had something on his mind, and he'd noticed the two of them seemed much more at ease with difficult subjects if they were walking, instead of sitting around. They got dressed in their winter gear and left the house. Lovino wore his new gloves. It wasn't really cold enough, but…he wanted to wear them. They were well-made, and he liked how they felt on his hands. "So…something's bothering you, dammit. What is it?"

"You know, I really like that you can be so direct about stuff. So many people need to tiptoe around discussions, but not you."

"Cheh. Are you making fun of me?" But he grinned as he asked.

"No! Well…not much, anyway." Arthur smiled too. "It can be really difficult if people don't want to talk right out."

"I know. So what's the problem?"

"Well. I – I've been thinking about this for a long time…ever since you invited me to come with you…and I still can't think of how to say it without sounding like an ungrateful git."

"Just say it, dammit. I know you're not ungrateful. Maybe you're a git, but you're not ungrateful."

"Ha. Well, I – I feel kind of…_wrong_, that you're – you're spending so much money on me." Arthur looked up at the sky and blew out a sigh.

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough?" Arthur turned and gave Lovino a funny look. "I feel like some destitute charity case that you've taken pity on!"

"Aren't you being just a bit hypersensitive?" Lovino countered. "All I really spent the money on was the airfare. You can't possibly be offended by the gift of watercolor brushes." He snorted.

"Don't be stupid – er –"

"I told you; say what you want, dammit. Why is it stupid?"

"It just is!"

"You make no sense. Look. We're not paying for lodging; my servants would be cleaning and cooking and all that, for themselves, even if we weren't here; paying to get into the tourist attractions is relatively –" Here, Lovino started to think, instead of spouting arguments, and he realized that the issue was not actually the money, but Arthur's discomfort. He stopped talking and thought about this while they continued walking. Perhaps it had been an affront to his friend's dignity. Yes. He could see how Arthur would feel that way. Dammit.

"I'm sorry," he finally offered. "I didn't think how it would seem to you. I just – I'm happy to have you here with me," he blushed, looking down, "and it's second nature to me to pay for those kinds of things. I have the money; I don't mind spending it. But I can see how it might have seemed, I don't know, overbearing? I really didn't mean to offend you." He looked up at Arthur, who was still walking along looking at the sky. "Will you forgive me?" Dammit, he hoped so.

"Of course," Arthur replied, so quickly that Lovino finally understood how tense he'd been, too. "I – I'm happy to be here, you know that, but…well…"

"What do you want me to do? To make you less stressed about it."

"Just – just stop being so bloody generous." Arthur looked over at him. "I couldn't believe you offered me artworks from your collection! That was just – insane! I'm nobody important. Those artworks should go to museums, or—"

But Lovino needed to cut him off. "Dammit, stop. You _are_ important, you idiot. Can't you see that?" He tried to run his hand through his hair, but it didn't slide well because of the glove, so he stopped. "I know that sounds, I don't know, stupid, weak, whatever, but…I like being with you." He felt his face burning and rubbed a hand over it. "You help me relax; I feel like I can be myself around you, instead of being so fucking cold and defensive all the time. I wasn't trying to, to _buy_ you with paintings!" He decided to try the same argument he'd used on Feli. "If I'm going to get rid of them, I want them to be appreciated. And yes, I know that museumgoers and private collectors will appreciate them, too, but…I just thought it would be a…well…whatever." He wound down, certain that he'd been babbling.

They walked on. Arthur didn't respond; Lovino began to worry that he had, in fact, sounded too weak, or needy, or something, he didn't know what. He decided to keep his mouth shut. What if he'd been wrong about Arthur?

No, he hadn't been wrong. Arthur wasn't some grasping bastard. He was a good man with a good heart, and he was Lovino's friend. Dammit, that was all that mattered, wasn't it?

"Thank you," Arthur said after a bit. "Thank you for telling me all that. I – you – you're important to me, too." He cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm glad you think you can be yourself around me. I hate that you're always so shirty with everyone…and I'm sorry I had this…rustic reaction to your generosity. I can see it must just be adding to your frustrations."

"No. It's not. The only way it frustrates me is seeing you in distress about it. Because I consider it a non-issue, and it seems bizarre to me that you stress over it. But I respect that you feel this way, and whatever you need me to do," Lovino said, "_whatever_, I'll do it." They made it to the corner before he could work up the nerve to repeat this next thing, and even so, he said it very softly. "You _are_ important to me. I don't want to lose that."

Arthur stopped walking and gave him such a melting look that Lovino's eyes filled with tears. "Bastard, please, please don't make me cry out in public." He looked away.

"I'm…sorry…I didn't mean to. Should we – should we go back to the house?" Arthur looked down at the ground.

"Yes, dammit." Lovino was torn, for an extremely stupid reason. He didn't want to wipe his teary eyes with the gloves on, because it would spot the leather. But he didn't want to take the gloves off to wipe his eyes, because it might offend Arthur!

This was such a ridiculous conundrum that he started laughing at himself. Arthur looked very alarmed at this outburst. Lovino just laughed and laughed, took a glove off and wiped his eyes, and then put the glove back on. "Come on, we can keep walking if you want. I'm all right now."

"If – if you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Then let's keep walking. It's a beautiful day, so nice and clear out, so good for a long walk. I'm always happy when it's dry on Christmas. Sometimes in England it rains, and that's always really depressing, though snow is pretty good."

Lovino appreciated that Arthur was trying to stabilize the conversation, and said so, and then he explained what had made him laugh so much.

"You really are a git" was his friend's relieved response.

"Yeah, I know. Shut up." Lovino punched him fondly on the arm, much more at ease.


	30. Indefinite Divisibility

**Indefinite Divisibility.** (Yves Tanguy, oil on canvas, 1942)

"Do you – uh – do you want to see the pool? We could swim for a while." Lovino still felt a bit uncomfortable about this, damn Feliciano and his brainless chatter! But since Feli had mentioned it, Lovino felt obliged to offer. It would be rude not to, now. And all they were doing right now was sitting together in the parlor, anyway. Arthur was reading; Lovino was trying to sketch the Christmas tree, but kept losing his focus.

"Er – that's – we don't have to." Arthur didn't look up. "I – er – don't have a bathing suit with me anyway."

Lovino looked right back down at his sketch pad and cleared his throat. "We…have extras. We used to have a lot of spontaneous house guests, so we always kept a closet full of extras for people who forgot. They're still down there."

"Wh – well – if you want to, I will?" Arthur still wasn't looking at him.

This was kind of bizarre. "What's the matter? Don't you know how to swim? The pool's only about five feet deep anyway, in the shallow end."

"Of course I know how to swim! I grew up on an _island,_ remember? Oh, bloody hell, yes, let's just go swim." Arthur dropped his book on the sofa and stood up, stretching, with a little scowl.

"Fine," Lovino laughed, setting down his things. "Come on, I'll show you where to get changed."

…

Bollocks. Why had he agreed to this? He knew it would be awkward. Well, he'd just have to watch what he said and did. He wasn't going to do anything daft. Absolutely not. No matter how good Lovino looked.

Arthur was currently in a little changing cubicle near the pool, hurriedly trying to get into the borrowed swim trunks. About a minute ago he'd heard a splash, presumably Lovino jumping into the water. Maybe he should stay in the cubicle, plead a sudden headache? "Bloody hell!" he yelled, kicking the wall. "Ow."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, it's just these blasted trunks. I'll be right out."

When he walked out of the cubicle he kept his back to the water for a moment, fiddling with the door handle, and then decided he just needed to man up and get on with it. As he turned to face the pool, he could feel himself turning red, but he tried to ignore it, tried to walk sedately to the edge and get in the water with his dignity intact.

He made it, even though Lovino was watching him the whole time. When he got into the water, Arthur immediately went all the way under, trying to cool his flaming face and clear his head. He stayed there until he needed air, then resurfaced and shook his head like a wet dog, as he always did when swimming.

"Stop that! Don't get me all wet, dammit." Lovino laughed and splashed him.

"Yes, all right, sorry," he muttered.

"What's the matter with you?" Lovino looked at him curiously and Arthur made himself look back, to be polite. "Do you have some kind of – of trauma?" his friend asked in concern. "You should have said! I wouldn't have forced you into the water, you know."

"What the hell do you mean, _trauma?_" Then Arthur realized he was behaving badly and forced himself to focus, rubbing his forehead. "Sorry. No, I have no trauma. I know how to swim, never saw anybody drown, et cetera. I'm just a little cranky. I – I guess I didn't get much sleep last night." That actually sounded plausible, so he smiled at Lovino.

Ah, there was nothing to worry about. Just two friends alone in a pool. Two wet, nearly-naked –

"Tell me about Feliciano," he demanded. Maybe he could swim around while Lovino talked, and that would distract him. At least the water was cool. It felt really refreshing.

"Like what?"

"I don't know! How did you meet him? How did you guys get to be friends? It's easy to see the two of you are very close."

"Yeah. We grew up on the same street when we were kids. He was always getting picked on and I always fought for him."

"That's so sweet," Arthur smiled.

"Sweet, my ass," Lovino snorted. "Do you know how many black eyes I got because of him, the little coward?" They laughed together. "But then my mom remarried, and we moved to Rome. We kept in touch by letter, and I pestered my parents to take me back for visits, and his parents helped, too. Now, though, we email all the time."

"That's great. I don't keep in touch with anybody from when I was a kid." Arthur had been right. This kind of talk was making things easier for him. He floated around a little.

"Ah, Feli's the only one I still talk to. His parents moved to Rome a while back, too, so it's pretty easy to keep in touch when I'm here."

"He and – er – Ludwig - ?" Whoops. He probably shouldn't have mentioned that name, and clamped his mouth shut.

But – "What about him? Ask what you want, I'm feeling kind of mellow, and I don't expect to have to deal with that potato eater again on this trip."

"Have – have they been dating for a long time?"

"Not that long. About a year? Yeah. Feli met him at some business conference in Switzerland. I was really surprised. He was always so flirty with the girls." Lovino sounded thoughtful. Arthur tried not to look at him, in case this was upsetting him. "But whatever. I just hope he's happy and that bastard isn't hurting him."

"Certainly didn't seem that way," Arthur offered, floating on his back and propelling himself around with little swirls of his hands.

"Nh. I know. But sometimes Feli can be pretty brainless. So he might not even realize it if the – if _Ludwig_ were trying to take advantage of him."

"Oh, he probably would. Don't worry yourself so much. He's a grown man, right?" Arthur stood up in the water again. "How old are you guys, anyway?"

"What? Why do you want to know that?" Lovino blurted out. Arthur looked away in embarrassment. "Ah, forget it. Just another one of those stupid knee-jerk reactions. Sorry. I'm twenty-six and he's twenty-five."

"Oh."

"What _oh_?"

"I've been trying to guess, ever since I met you. When you wear business suits, you look older. But in casual clothes you look a lot younger, maybe early 20s." Arthur ducked his head under the water; he was feeling stupid again.

When he came back up (shaking his head again and earning a splash from his friend), Lovino asked him, "Well, how the hell old are you? When I first saw you" – something seemed to disturb him about this phrase, and he rubbed a wet hand over his face – "I thought you were probably still in college. But you act a lot more mature."

"I'm older than you," Arthur replied, grinning at him. "I hope you don't mean I act like an old man."

"Tell me how old you are, dammit; quit being so coy about it."

"Twenty-eight," Arthur admitted.

"You don't act like an old man, though. Just – well, I was a little worried. Ms. Taylor said you were _quite young_, but she thought you were the best candidate. So I still had this idea you were going to be, I don't know, kind of – of flighty? Irresponsible? I'm glad you're not."

"Me too," Arthur laughed. "Hey, are you ever going to get your hair wet?"

"No! I hate that. It gets all chloriney and feels like straw."

"Just wash the chlorine out, wanker."

"No, I'm not going to get my hair wet!"

"Want to bet?" asked Arthur, with an evil gleam in his eye. Before Lovino could respond, Arthur leaped for him, arms outstretched, and grabbed him around the waist, holding him and dragging him under the water. He let go and they both resurfaced.

"You bastard." Lovino was gasping for air and had backed away from his friend, but he was grinning.

"You're just too uptight," Arthur managed to say.

"Well, fuck, my hair's going to be ruined anyway, so…you're next, dammit." Lovino leaped at him and pushed him underwater. They struggled, not too earnestly, before surfacing again and (in Arthur's case) shaking the water off.

Ah, he had worked himself up for no reason. They could have fun together like this and he didn't need to worry about acting stupid. The two of them splashed around having fun in the pool for a long time, and Arthur didn't have any more conflict at all.

…

They dried off and changed back into their clothing for a quick supper, but afterwards Lovino complained of a headache, so they split up and went to their rooms. He wasn't exactly in_ pain._ He'd just felt a little tense all afternoon and wasn't quite sure why. Talking to Arthur in the pool had been a little weird at first, but then they'd settled down and enjoyed playing around. It had been a long time since he'd had – well, _playful_ fun, like that.

Lovino always liked swimming; he was glad Arthur had agreed to it in the end. It's true, he'd been angry with Feliciano for suggesting it, but that was just because he didn't like anyone gawking at him. But Arthur had seen him without a shirt before (he blushed, remembering that night at the gallery), so it hadn't been a real problem; in any case, it wasn't as if his friend had been _staring _at him, or anything.

He couldn't figure out what had been bothering Arthur, though. If it wasn't some kind of trauma, the only other thing Lovino could think of was that he too had been embarrassed about appearing in a bathing suit. But that was ridiculous. He – he looked perfectly fine, dammit, and had no reason to be embarrassed. It's not as if Arthur were overweight, or anything. No, he had a good body. Not like a bodybuilder, of course, but…it was perfectly fine! Nothing wrong with it at all. Ah, maybe it _was_ some trauma and Arthur was trying to be strong about it. Lovino could understand that.

Dammit. Now his head really did hurt. He undressed himself, deciding to take a shower, get all the chlorine off him, and out of his hair. Maybe it would help his headache, too.

Lovino washed his hair under the warm shower spray first, still wondering about what had been bothering Arthur. When his hair was clean to his satisfaction, he began washing off his body; chlorine was very drying to the skin.

Despite his best efforts to control himself, the combination of the warm water and the feel of his soapy hands against his skin started to arouse him, as it sometimes did. For a few difficult seconds he tried to deny this urge, and then gave in, stroking his rib cage, his hips, moving his hands lower to pleasure himself more directly. Oh…yes, this was exactly what he needed, dammit. He was feeling much less tense already.

Soon Lovino's knees began to feel weak. He knelt down in the tub; his breath grew shorter, and he let his mind drift. He didn't often fantasize when he let himself do this; it was usually just quick satisfaction, but today his thoughts were roaming all over the place, so he just let them roam, imagining the knowing touch of a complete stranger coaxing him to release.

When he'd finished, he knelt in the shower for another minute, regaining his strength, and then turned off the water. Lovino barely spared the time to dry off before slipping between the sheets, stretching languorously. His headache was gone, and he felt relaxed and strangely optimistic.

All in all, it had turned out to be a pretty good day.

…

_A bizarre painting with a cool name, that bears no relation to the story._


	31. The Blue Boy

**The Blue Boy. **(Thomas Gainsborough, oil on canvas, 1770)

"So tell me which painting you found. Or was it a sculpture?" The two friends were wandering down the upstairs hallway of Lovino's home prior to their art assessment.

"No, it's a painting. It's in your library." They went down the stairs and Lovino led Arthur into the library, switching on the lights.

"Don't tell me, all right? Let's see if I can guess." Lovino drifted around looking at things. He asked about one or two, to which of course Arthur said no, but as he watched, Lovino passed right by the extraordinary painting without even looking at it.

"You walked right past it!"

"What? Which one?"

Arthur walked up to the probably-not-a-Gainsborough and gestured to it. "This one."

Lovino turned very red and his face got quite angry. He frowned at Arthur and turned away, almost seeming as though he wanted to stalk out of the room, but then he stopped. Still facing away from his friend, he said, "Why the hell do you want that one?"

Arthur could see him breathing deeply, and could hear the obvious anger in his voice, though he didn't understand it at all. "I – I just like it…that's all…I've – always loved Gainsborough's portraits; I study his brushwork when I want to paint difficult fabrics, him and Fragonard, and that painting…it's…but I know it's probably not really a Gainsborough." He stopped, not sure he was getting through to Lovino, who was still facing the other way with his hands clenched into fists.

But his friend turned and looked at him with his amber eyes wide. "You – you've got to be joking."

"What? No! Why would I be joking? About what?" Arthur was well and truly perplexed.

Instead of answering, Lovino walked over to the painting and stared at it. And stared some more. "You're actually serious. You like this stupid painting?"

Arthur came over to stand beside him. "It's not a stupid painting at all! Look at the brushwork! The boy is wearing black velvet and the dog has black fur, and they're right next to each other, but you can clearly see the difference in the textures, even though it's a fairly small painting. And the backlighting gives it such a – a strong and unusual glow…I really _love_ this painting."

Lovino stopped staring at the painting and stared at Arthur instead. Just when Arthur felt he couldn't take the intensity of that stare, his friend looked away, rubbed his hand over his face, and then looked back at the painting. "You – wow." He let out a big sigh. "Uh."

By this point it was pretty obvious that this painting disturbed Lovino in some way. "Er – are you going to tell me what the problem is?"

"I almost don't want to, bastard!"

Arthur was relieved. If Lovino was calling him "bastard" again (no matter how weird that actually was), it meant he was getting over whatever had bothered him so much. "Well, then, don't. We – we don't have to take this one, since it disturbs you so much."

Lovino just stared at the painting some more, but his frown was subsiding.

Suddenly all the little gears in Arthur's brain finally came together and started spinning sensibly. His jaw dropped and he turned back to look at the painting too. "Oh! This – this is you_?"_ he asked in tones of pure amazement. "This is a painting of you!" He turned to grin at Lovino and then back to the painting again. "Bloody hell. You had curly hair? You were _adorable_." Whoops. He'd stepped over that line again. He blushed and looked away.

But no. "Are you saying I'm not adorable now?"

Arthur blushed even more furiously, unable to answer that in any coherent way. "Er. You – I –"

Lovino patted him on the shoulder, laughing. "Don't even answer that. It was a hundred percent rhetorical. You really didn't recognize me, though?"

The blond turned back to the painting, still a bit uneasy at the idea of looking directly at Lovino. Of course he was adorable now, but…Arthur couldn't bring himself to say that. He settled for "Well, you've changed a bit since then," which sent his friend into even louder laughter.

"You're an idiot," Lovino eventually wheezed, leaning against a chair.

"Probably. I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable at all."

"Cheh, don't worry about it, that was really funny. So this is the one you want to take?" Lovino turned back and looked at it. "Seriously?"

"Well, obviously not if it's going to freak you out!"

"I appreciate that. Let me think about it. Although if _you_ didn't realize it was me, then probably nobody else will either, and that was my main concern."

"We could always put it in the office. Nobody else ever goes back there." Bloody hell. Now Arthur _really_ wanted this painting. He felt a strange affection for the carefree boy Lovino had been. He'd always wondered why his friend was so quick to anger, and this curiosity was intensified after seeing that laughing child in the painting. Arthur wanted to help his friend be that lighthearted again. He knew that even if Lovino refused to take the painting back, he, Arthur, would always carry the memory of it in his heart.

"What the fuck, let's take it," Lovino said, rather spoiling the moment. But Arthur smiled, because he _had_ agreed to take the painting back. There would be plenty of time to daydream once they got home.

"Thanks."

"If it makes you happy…" Lovino shrugged. "Whatever. Now, come on, let's start looking at the other things, and deciding about where they should go."

…

_"The Blue Boy" was the inspiration for That Suit which you may recognize from "Twelve Meetings" and "Anagram Stories."_


	32. A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of

**A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.** (Georges Seurat, oil on canvas, 1886)

Lovino was in a strange mood. He and Arthur had been invited to spend the afternoon with Feli and his parents. Ordinarily this would have pleased him quite a bit; he knew Feli and Arthur got along, and suspected his friend would get along with Feliciano's parents fairly easily. He was just worried that the fucking potato bastard would be there, and that he himself would be surly and argumentative like he'd been on Christmas Eve. Lovino hadn't quite felt comfortable asking for Ludwig to be left out of the occasion today. If Feli truly – _loved_ that man –

But Lovino couldn't think about that; it made him too damn tense.

It was now just past lunchtime. They weren't due to arrive at Feli's parents' house until dinnertime, so he and Arthur were loafing around the parlor. Arthur had purchased a new sketchbook in Rome, and was listlessly doodling something with Conté crayons. Lovino was reading his book.

"Why don't you have an e-reader?" his friend asked.

"Had one. Lost it."

"Bloody hell, do you lose _everything_?"

"Bastard. You'll notice I didn't lose my new gloves yet."

"It's only been four days! Talk to me at the end of winter. If you still have them, I'll – I'll – well, I don't know what. I'll take you to England this summer." He blushed a little. "If my paintings keep selling, I'll definitely have enough money to do that. Not as splashy of a trip as this one, but…"

"You'll take me to England just because I didn't lose a pair of gloves? You're on." They shook on it.

"No cheating. You have to actually use them. Not just leave them on the dresser so you still have them at the end of winter."

"Dammit. I will, though. You'll see."

"Fine. I'm going to check, every time I see you."

"Fine." Lovino went back to his book, Arthur to his sketching.

…

As he changed his shirt, Lovino spared a moment to look at the beautiful watercolor Arthur had painted for him, which he'd propped up on his dresser. The colors glowed, and the picture itself was delightful. It made him feel optimistic. He hoped Arthur would paint more watercolors. He planned to hang this in his dining room, where he could look at it every morning at breakfast; he had the perfect spot all picked out already. He opened his sock drawer and started looking for a matching pair to wear.

A soft knock came on his door and he crossed to open it. Arthur, with his hair looking more than usually messy, stood there. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing! I just, well, I was all ready, and just – whatever. If you want me to go downstairs, I will." Arthur blushed, which surprised Lovino. Of course he knew that Arthur was prone to blushing just as he was – it was one of the things that had originally endeared him to Lovino, when they'd first begun socializing – but he wondered just what was bothering him now.

"No, no, come in; I'm just trying to find some matching socks, dammit."

Arthur came in and sat in one of the elegant side chairs by the window. "I don't want to upset you, but I kind of want to know something before we go, so I can – can be ready." He stared off to the side of the room.

"What? I told you! Ask what you want, say what you want. What's bothering you? I could tell there was something wrong when you walked in the room."

"I just wondered if…Ludwig is going to be there. I want to be prepared, so I can help you out, if you get too stressed." He still wouldn't look at his friend.

Lovino stopped in his fruitless sock search and turned in place. "Bastard. Thank you."

Arthur looked up at him and gave him a little smile.

"I don't know if he'll be there," Lovino went on. "I didn't feel right asking Feli to make him stay away, since he – he really cares for the bastard, but…I also didn't even want to ask, because if he _wasn't_ going to be there, I didn't want to put the idea into Feli's head."

Arthur laughed. "Good thinking. Well, if you, if there's anything I can do to help you. If you want to go for a walk or something to get away – whatever – just let me know, all right? I don't want you to be stressed."

"You've got a good heart, Arthur," Lovino said fondly, turning away and resuming the sock hunt.

"There is one other thing." His friend sounded a little nervous.

"What is it?" Lovino kept rummaging in the drawer, holding up mismatched socks and flinging them back down in disgust.

"Do Feliciano's parents speak English? I don't speak any Italian."

Oh. Lovino stopped what he was doing and looked up again. "I didn't even think about that. They don't speak much English, it's true. But don't worry, Feli and I will interpret for you. All right?"

Arthur, looking a little worried, nodded. He still didn't seem to be at ease despite this offer, so Lovino thought for a moment. "Well, also, if _you_ get too stressed – let me know, will you? I don't want you to be sitting around all tense because you're afraid to talk, or whatever. We can go out for a walk together, or with Feli, or something."

This brought a smile to Arthur's face. "Yes, all right. Thanks."

Lovino turned back to the dresser and _finally_ found two socks that matched. "Listen…how do you feel about motorcycles?" He was almost a little nervous to hear the answer. He didn't take his out much, but the weather was so nice today…

"What do you mean? I don't really know much about them."

"Dammit, that's not what I meant. I meant are you afraid to ride one?"

"You have a _motorcycle_? Bloody hell."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Well, it shouldn't be a problem. I learned to ride a motorbike when I was a kid. Is there anything much different, that I need to know, or do?"

"Nn – no. Just – just, dammit, just hold on to me, and don't panic." Lovino busied himself putting on his socks and boots.

"Er – well, yes, I – I guess I can do that…"

"Fine. Let's get going." He led the way from his bedroom without looking at his friend.

…

Arthur was feeling really good now, even though he was still a little anxious about how the visit would go. He was feeling good because this motorcycle ride was a lot more fun than he'd expected it to be! He'd thought it would be frightening and tense. Instead, he was enjoying it a great deal. The ride was exhilarating. Arthur knew his hair would look worse than usual when they got there, a little flat from the helmet, but he didn't even care.

Feliciano came running out of the house when they arrived. The three of them walked into the house talking happily, Feliciano between the others, holding an arm of each as they carried their helmets inside.

"Is – is Ludwig going to be here?" Arthur couldn't help flicking his eyes towards Lovino, but he really wanted to know.

Their host grinned. "No. I thought today would just be for us, ve. Is that all right?"

Lovino smiled at Arthur, and Arthur smiled at Feliciano. "That's – that's very thoughtful of you." He felt an understanding squeeze on his arm. Well. That was definitely a relief.

Once inside the house, Feliciano led them into the kitchen, where a short, plump woman was cooking something on the stove. Before anyone could speak, she turned, looked at Lovino, dropped the spoon into the saucepan and rushed to hug him, chattering in Italian, making Lovino blush, but also making him smile. He embraced her with warmth. Arthur assumed this was Feliciano's mother. She continued talking very quickly, then turned her head towards the doorway and hollered something.

A man (Feliciano's father?) came into the kitchen, flicked his eyes to Arthur, but then strode over to shake Lovino's hand; the brunet pulled his hand away and embraced the older man as well. Soon the noise level was almost unbearable, as everyone but Arthur was speaking loud and rapid Italian.

Lovino said something and pulled Arthur over by the arm. He panicked. "I – I don't speak Italian, remember?" he said quietly.

His friend dropped his arm, pursing his lips and closing his eyes. "Sorry. I forgot."

"Ve, that's all right, Arthur, Lovi and I can interpret for you!" He introduced his father, who shook Arthur's hand with a grin, and then his mother, who had continued to stare at Lovino all this time. She turned from him and looked at Arthur appraisingly, then pulled him into a big, friendly hug, saying something to him.

"She's pleased to meet such a good friend of Lovi's!" Feliciano said happily. Arthur smiled shyly at her; Lovino rolled his eyes, but smiled too.

"Come into the living room. We can talk there." Feliciano dragged Arthur away, leaving Lovino and his father to follow behind. His mother called something out and went back to the stove.

This wasn't so bad, Arthur considered. As long as they remembered to interpret for him –

At first, the conversation was a little stilted. Arthur didn't want to make more work for them, so he didn't speak much; apparently Feliciano's father felt the same way, because he sat in his chair smiling at the two boys but not contributing anything to the conversation. Lovino and Feliciano spoke about nothing much, in English, occasionally translating something into Italian for his father's benefit. But Arthur was happy to see Lovino relaxed and laughing. His mind wandered a bit as he observed the two friends together. They certainly seemed to complement each other well. Feliciano's bubbly nature counteracted Lovino's everyday surliness and brought out the best in him.

Eventually Feliciano's mother came out of the kitchen and joined them. Almost immediately the conversation switched to Italian; Arthur didn't really notice, because he was still daydreaming a bit. Then he became aware that a silence had fallen and everyone was looking at him. "Oh. I'm sorry. I kind of lost the conversation, since you were all talking Italian again."

Blast. He wished he hadn't had to say that, because Lovino's face tensed up instantly. But he'd _had_ to say it.

Feliciano jumped to the rescue, though, translating the question into English. "Ve, Mamma wants to know whether you're enjoying your stay."

Arthur beamed at her. "Of course I am. Lovino is a great friend, and Rome is a beautiful city. I'm having a marvelous time!"

Feliciano dutifully translated this for his parents, but Arthur was watching his friend. Lovino's eyes had flown open wide at the compliment, and he gave Arthur a surprised smile.

The rest of the day wasn't so bad. There were a few awkward hitches in the conversation when the Italian began flowing very quickly, but both Feliciano and Lovino were quick to cover it. Eventually the meal was ready. Arthur was glad of it – the smells were so delicious they'd been making his stomach rumble, and he was starting to get embarrassed.

And the meal was as good as the enticing aromas had promised. Everyone ate happily, talking in two languages, until absolutely everything was gone. They all helped clean up the table. Feliciano's parents went into the kitchen to do the washing up.

"Ve. I'm so full! Why don't we go out for a walk?"

"Good idea. Come on, bastard, it's still a nice day." Lovino grabbed Arthur by the hand and pulled him over towards the coat closet – and then let go of his hand with a look of alarm on his face.

Arthur, who had been surprised, but of course not offended, fought to put on his nonchalant look, but it was difficult, because Feliciano was grinning at them. He settled for a short laugh as they got their coats.

…

At first they tried walking three abreast, but it was difficult on the narrow sidewalk. Eventually Feli and Arthur settled into a matched pace side by side, with Lovino behind them. He felt very affectionate as he watched his two friends laughing and talking together.

He also felt kind of stupid. Why had he taken Arthur's hand? Argh. He lifted his gloved hand to rub over his face, but then reasoned that nobody was looking at him, so he didn't bother. Instead, he looked at his new gloves. They'd been very useful on the ride over. In fact, if Arthur hadn't given him the gloves, he would never have considered riding the Ducati today, too cold out. He smiled, flexing his hands. It had been really nice to ride it again. Maybe he'd ship it back to the States. Dammit, he was going to need to rent a bigger garage.

Eventually Arthur drifted back and gave Lovino a smile and a little push forward, so he could walk with Feli.

"Ve. I know Arthur's having a good time, Lovi…but are you? I know you don't often have to do these host duties for people; I know you hate it."

"What? No, I _am_ having a good time. We're doing a lot of fun things – things I haven't done in a long time. And he's – he is very easy to be around," he continued in a low tone.

"I'm glad of that. I always worry about you, all alone over there. It makes me feel better to know you have a good friend like Arthur to look out for you."

Lovino blushed. "Dammit, he doesn't _look out for me_," he muttered, even though he knew that by now, Arthur sort of did.

"But I bet he would, if you needed him to. He cares about you a lot, I can tell."

Lovino did rub his hand over his face at that. "Just shut up about him, dammit."

Feli smiled. "Ve, if you insist."

"I insist!"

…

Feli tried to push Arthur and Lovino to walk together, after a while, but both of them argued against it. Arthur pointed out that he and Lovino saw each other every day. Lovino should spend his time with Feli, whom he wouldn't get to see for a while.

"I told you he looks out for you," Feliciano muttered with a grin.

"You're an idiot." But Lovino was smiling, just a little.

"I know, ve. Will we have time to see each other again before you go back? When do you leave?"

"Early Saturday."

"Oh, then I guess we probably won't, since today's Thursday. But I'll see you soon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Lovi? Why didn't you want me to say anything about that on Christmas Eve?"

"Dammit. I don't want to share all my – my personal information with him, all right? And I don't like talking about that stuff in front of the po—Ludwig, either."

"I'm sorry. I never knew that."

"It's all right. Now you know."

"Yes, now I know." Feliciano took his hand and they walked along happily. Sometimes Lovino felt stupid holding Feli's hand, but today, yeah, it was all right.

…

In England, of course, or even in America, male friends would never hold hands in public. Arthur watched the two of them walk in front of him. Maybe that was why Lovino had taken his hand in the house. If it was the custom here –

Well, whatever. It was nice to know his friend was getting comfortable enough with him to do that sort of thing. Arthur grinned and began to whistle a merry little tune.

…


	33. The White Peacock

**The White Peacock.** (Jan Weenix, oil on canvas, 1692)

Two days back from vacation and the gallery was bustling. Arthur supposed a lot of people had Christmas money to spend. On the one hand, he was happy Lovino had come down, because he'd been a big help with all the clients, plus it was usually good just to spend time with him. On the other hand…

"Well, that about wraps it up for the day," Lovino said. "Want to go get some dinner?"

Arthur fidgeted a bit. This was what he'd been worrying about. "I, I've got plans tonight. But thanks for asking." Blast. Gilbert needed to talk about his sodding stripper_ again_, and Arthur had to give up a da—give up dinner with Lovino for it? But he wasn't going to tell Lovino this. "How about tomorrow night?"

"Ah, well, maybe." Was it his imagination, or did Lovino look a little pale?

"Are you all right?"

"Cheh, yes, I'm fine. It's nothing." He grabbed his briefcase and coat and headed out of the little back office. "Have a good time on your date," he spat, just before walking out and slamming the door.

Bollocks. Arthur took one last longing look at the painting of young Lovino – they'd mounted it on the office wall that morning – and sighed. Now what?

…

As a result of that scene, Arthur was somewhat short with his friend when they got to the diner, but, Gilbert being Gilbert, he apparently didn't even notice.

"So, Artie, you were a hundred percent correct!"

"About what?"

"Felicia!"

Arthur frowned. "What about her? She's married?"

"Kesesese! No! Remember you said Starbucks by day, stripper by night?"

More than half Arthur's mind was still worrying about Lovino, so he just answered with a grunt.

"And she is!"

This bizarre exchange finally got through to him. "What are you talking about?"

"Man, are you out of it. Look, just pay attention, all right?"

Arthur figured he might as well. The situation with Lovino – if that's what it really was – wasn't going to solve itself just because he was ignoring Gilbert. He sighed. "All right. Start over, wanker, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

Gilbert repeated himself.

"You're joking."

"Nope, not joking at all_._ She called and asked me to come to the club last week, and it turns out her real name is Feliks. The Starbucks guy. And he's also Felicia."

"So why was he so surly before?"

"Totally afraid I was hooked on Felicia as a woman! Of course, me being as awesome as I am, he wanted me for himself, even after we went out on a couple dates where he was dressed as Felicia. But he was afraid I wouldn't want to go out with him, if I knew he was a man." Gilbert had finished his own meal already and started eating Arthur's French fries.

"So you guys are dating? Not dating?"

"We're awesomely dating."

"Are you dating him, or the stripper?" Arthur couldn't believe he had to ask such a question. He was mighty confused by all this; it was almost driving his own problems out of his head.

"Kesesese, the really cool thing is that I have _both options_! Some days we go out and he's Feliks, and some days we go out and he dresses up as Felicia so I can have a beautiful woman on my arm! It's so fucking awesome, Artie!" Gilbert was so excited he pounded his fists on the table.

The only thing this achieved was to make Arthur roll his eyes. "At the end of the day, he's still a guy, though, git."

"So what? Never stopped you, did it?" Gilbert poked him in the arm and Arthur turned red. "Whoa! Artie. Got somebody lined up? Tell, tell."

"I can't tell. Nothing _to_ tell."

"Is it—?"

"Don't even say another word." Arthur dropped his sandwich and put his head in his hands. "Just, please, Gilbert, you're happy, and I'm not, and I most emphatically do not want to talk about it tonight."

"Mood kill. Get over yourself. Just ask him out."

"What? Who?" But Arthur flushed again as he looked up at Gilbert in surprise.

"Kesesese."

"Shut it." Arthur looked down at the plate again. Damn it, this was excruciating. "I can't eat any more. Take what you want." He shoved the plate over to Gilbert, who began polishing off the rest of the meal.

"Listen, Arthur, you're in the grip of some romance drama, so…deal with it. You're a wet blanket."

"You say that all the time, git."

"Because you totally are_._"

"Fine. I totally am. Just – just hurry up and eat. I want to go home."

"Seriously? That's – well, no. I was going to say it was awesome, because now I can go see Felicia dance, but…it's not awesome at all, Artie. You help me with things…is there anything I can do to help you?"

Gilbert actually sounded serious. Arthur looked at him. "No. The damage is done; it's up to me to fix it. I want to go home and think about how to handle it. That's all. If I can fix things, I should be all right."

"Do you think you can?"

"Bloody hell, I hope so." He sank his head into his hands again, elbows on the table, and Gilbert let him sit in peace while he finished eating all Arthur's food.

"Want to get some takeout, in case you're hungry later?"

"No. I have stuff at home."

"All right. Hey, if you really do want to go home, I am going to go see Felicia. Do you want me to drop you on the way?"

Arthur thought about this. "Thanks, but…no. I think I'm going to walk. I need to clear my head; maybe it will help me figure something out."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure," he sighed.

Gilbert picked up the tab. As they walked out of the diner, he gave Arthur a quick hug around the shoulders with one arm and went over to his car. "Seriously. Call me if you need me."

"Thanks, Gilbert. I'll call you soon."

He watched Gilbert drive away, waving. Well, at least the wanker finally had his love life straightened out. Arthur snorted. He put up his coat collar and started walking the three miles to his apartment, trying to come up with some way to fix things with Lovino. If it wasn't all just a figment of his imagination. It was easy to see that Lovino was jealous of Arthur's plans. He just couldn't tell – ah, it was so pointless to worry about this. The best thing to do was talk to Lovino. That was the only way to work it out. He'd just have to be very, very careful about what he said.

Not really intending to call, he reached for his cell phone, just to reassure himself that he could call his friend if he needed to. Blast. He must have left it in the office, he'd been so distressed. _Fuck._ He raked his hands through his hair and walked on, now completely angry with himself. Now he'd have to wait until tomorrow.

…


	34. Effects of Sunlight on Water

**Effects of Sunlight on Water.** (André Derain, oil on canvas, 1905)

Lovino had been driving around the District for an hour, a very stupid move at this time of day. Traffic was miserable and so was he, stuck in gridlock. He punched the steering wheel for the umpteenth time. He looked at his hands in their gloves. Then he angrily peeled the gloves off and flung them onto the passenger seat. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, eyeballing the gloves askance. Then he reached over and gently picked them up, folding them neatly and laying them back on the seat. After that, he frowned and punched the steering wheel again.

Cars began to move and he started driving, trying to find a less-congested route. He didn't even have a destination; he just wanted to work off some of this frustration. Fucking traffic! But he didn't want to head out of the city. He knew from experience that traffic was even worse outside the Beltway.

He finally managed to swing onto a road that was fairly empty, and in fact by this point most of the worst of rush hour was over. Still seething, Lovino drove randomly for perhaps another half hour before allowing himself to start thinking about why he was angry. Because he was _very fucking angry._

Ah, he didn't need to dance around this. He was pissed off at Arthur.

No. He was pissed off at himself, for feeling – dependent? – on Arthur.

Lovino knew it wasn't reasonable to expect Arthur to keep his social calendar clear, just to hang around with him. But he hit the steering wheel again anyway. Dammit. Was he actually _dating_ someone? _Chigi!_ How the hell was Lovino supposed to find out? He couldn't just ask_._

Well…why couldn't he? If it was really that important.

Because he just couldn't! That's not the kind of thing you just ask someone point-blank_._

He drove a little more, not really paying attention to where he was going. He thought about Arthur, and he thought about this situation.

Usually, thinking about Arthur calmed him down. Not tonight, though.

No kidding. Because he was pissed off at him.

Why the hell was he pissed off? Because Arthur had a date? He should be happy for his friend.

But, you know, he wasn't even sure it was a date. Maybe he had things to do, buying new paints or shit like that.

No, because he could have gone to dinner with Lovino, and they could have gone for the paints afterwards. It had to be some unchangeable plans. Plans with someone else.

That albino bastard was the only friend of Arthur's he knew about. _Fuck!_ Lovino nearly hit the car in front of him, slamming on the brakes just in time.

After some more of these fruitless thoughts, and some more near accidents, he finally realized he needed to do something. Either go home, park the car, or talk to Arthur.

Of course, he could do all three, but…

He pulled over and let the engine idle while he tried to decide what to do.

What he wanted to do most: talk to Arthur. Find out what made him, Lovino, feel so angry about this. And yes, find out just what the hell kind of – of plans his friend had made, that didn't include him. Dammit. This was the stupidest day of his life, he'd bet.

And…he'd need to apologize, too. He _had_ acted badly. Like a spoiled brat. He didn't want Arthur to be pissed at _him_ about this.

But if Arthur was out – on a – a _date_ – he wouldn't be home for a while.

Lovino now realized he wasn't that far from the gallery. Well, he could go there and park the car, at least, and then he'd be off the road and not worrying about traffic and accidents. That's what he'd do. He could figure out what to do after that.

He drove there and parked. He sat in the car for ten minutes, thinking about what to do next. Then he decided he'd be more comfortable actually inside the building, not sitting out here in his fucking freezing _car_, so he went inside.

He paced around, looking at all the nice things he owned, and thinking about all the time he and Arthur had spent here together. Dammit, he was getting mad again.

He pulled out his phone. It would be a colossally bad idea to call Arthur when he was busy with something else. But he knew he really, really needed to sort this out. Lovino was annoyed and confused and didn't know how else to deal with it, other than by talking to his friend.

What if Arthur hadn't realized how upset he was? _Dammit_! He walked back to the office to sit at the messy desk and scowled at that stupid painting of him with his stupid curly hair and the artist's stupid dog.

Oh. Arthur had left his cell phone on the desk.

Well, that solved one problem, at least. He looked away from it…then he stole a few glances at it. No, he was absolutely _not_ going to act like a sneaky kid and look at Arthur's contacts list! He shoved the phone into a desk drawer to remove temptation.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, he thought about this phone situation. Arthur was probably worried about where he'd lost his phone. Maybe he should drive over to Arthur's apartment and wait for him to come home from his – his – _whatever_, and give him the phone. At least then he wouldn't be worrying about _that_. And then maybe they could talk. Yes, that should work. He took the phone out, slipped it into his pocket, and left.

…

_Thanks to all of you who are cheering them on! I love reading your enthusiastic reviews. _


	35. The Darkening Sky of the First Night

**The Darkening Sky of the First Night.** (Gustave Doré, engraved illustration for Dante's Divine Comedy, 1861 edition)

Arthur's unsettled strides had brought him to the gallery – he figured he might as well pick up his phone; maybe it would help him figure out what to do next – and when he'd seen Lovino's car parked there, hadn't quite known what to think. He decided to wait outside until Lovino came out.

By the time he did, the blond had settled back to lean against the car, cold and pessimistic. He knew the git was touchy, but this was really angering him. Why the hell should Lovino be judgmental about his social life? He ground his teeth together. By this point he'd worked himself up so much that he almost wished that he'd gone with Gilbert to watch his bloody transvestite stripper.

"_What_?" Lovino blurted out.

Arthur scowled at him. "Will you walk with me?" This might help. They did seem to communicate more effectively when they were on the move.

Lovino was still gaping at him. "Of course I will. Wait. Here's your phone." He handed it over.

Well, either Arthur had been completely wrong, and there was no problem at all, or else Lovino had been just as stressed and was trying to cover it up. Why had he been at the gallery? Was he worrying about this? He hoped so. It was always a bloody bitch to be in a one-sided friendship.

They walked off together. Neither spoke for a while. The Brit thought he probably needed to make the first move; knowing Lovino as he did by now, it was fairly certain he wouldn't try to start a discussion like this one. Arthur just hoped he wasn't reading too much into the situation. Maybe his friend wasn't really upset?

Well, he'd never find out if they just kept walking along in silence. He decided to start with something mild, see how his friend reacted. "I was just having dinner with my friend Gilbert. You may remember meeting him once at the gallery," he began, cutting his eyes to Lovino.

He saw the hands clench into fists. Arthur's brain also noted that he wasn't wearing his gloves. Oh, he was _definitely_ pissed off. Those gloves practically hadn't left his hands since Christmas day. The blond began to get a little more irritated, and a little more nervous, too.

But – perhaps Lovino didn't realize how unreasonable he was being. Sometimes he did seem obtuse that way. It would be best to keep talking it out. He took another deep breath. "Gilbert is having – _was_ having – relationship trouble. He – he asks me for advice." Arthur snorted as the absurdity of that statement made itself clear to him.

He saw Lovino's hands begin to loosen a little. That was a good sign.

"We aren't dating. I'm…not dating anyone." That was the tough part. He wasn't sure whether Lovino cared about that aspect of it, or whether he was just angry because Arthur had other plans. Maybe it didn't even matter.

Lovino shoved his hands into his coat pockets. They walked on.

Now that that was behind him, Arthur felt angry at the lack of response. "Aren't you going to say anything?" They'd gone almost half a mile by now.

"Uh."

Well, that was a start.

Lovino spoke again, very quietly. "I'm – sorry I reacted that way. I kind of – well, you know I don't socialize with anybody else but you, and I felt kind of – of – well – dammit, I was a little jealous that you wanted to spend your time with somebody else, that's all. It was childish of me. Spoiled. I – I guess I was taking our friendship for granted, a little, assuming that you'd always be there whenever I wanted you."

Yes, it was childish. But Arthur didn't want them to be at odds with each other, either. If it could work out this easily – "I'm sorry you were distressed about it."

Lovino didn't deny the distress. "Why aren't you with him now?" he asked, still sounding hesitant.

He looked at the brunet as if he'd lost his mind. "Because I was upset about you! And for another thing, we were done with dinner, so he went off for a date with his – his –" Arthur, waving his hands around in bewilderment, wildly opted for "_girlfriend_, and I had to walk around to calm down because I was so concerned about making you angry." He blew out a violent breath. "I didn't even know where I was heading until I saw your car parked outside the gallery."

"How long were you out there?"

"I don't know. I didn't check my watch."

When Lovino didn't speak further, Arthur demanded, "What were you doing there, anyway?"

Lovino put his chin down inside the collar of his coat and muttered, "Wondering how to fix this."

Oh. He stopped walking; Lovino stopped too, turning to look at him with a confused little frown.

"Give me your hands."

"What? Why?" Lovino took his hands out of his coat pockets and gingerly extended them towards his friend, palms down. Arthur took them and pulled him into a hug. "Wh-what are you doing?" But he raised his arms and gave his friend a quick little squeeze in return.

"I'm just relieved that I wasn't the only one worrying. Thank you. I'm glad we got to work it out so soon."

"N-no kidding. I don't need extra stress. And – and I don't like you hurting, either." Lovino ran his hand over his red face. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Arthur looked at that hand. It seemed like everything really had worked out? Yes, he was still a little upset, but he could think about that, deal with it, later. He tried for a lighter note. "I notice you're not wearing your gloves…_wanker."_

"They're in my car…_bastard._ I did _not_ lose them." He put his hands back in his pockets and smiled shyly at Arthur. "Come on back. Want me to give you a ride home?"

"Er."

"Now what? Say it."

"Could we go get some dinner? I was too tense to eat, and Gilbert ate my sandwich."

Lovino started laughing and gave him a brief one-armed hug. "You poor thing. I'll take you anywhere you want. Come on."


	36. Campbell's Soup Cans

**Campbell's Soup Cans.** (Andy Warhol, silkscreen, 1962)

"Hello? Lovino?"

"Who is this?"

"It's me! Arthur." He sneezed.

"Bastard, what the hell's the matter with you? You sound like an old lady!"

"I think I have the flu," Arthur moaned. "I really don't think I can go in to work today. Is that all right? I know we never talked about sick days, but I feel _miserable_." He coughed.

"Of course it's all right, stupid. Rest up, drink liquids, all that shit, all right? The gallery can stay closed until you're better."

"Thanks. I'll keep you posted."

"Do – do you want me to come over? Bring you anything? Medicine or – or, well, I don't know what?"

"Nh. You should probably stay away, so you don't get sick too." Arthur sneezed.

"Bless you. You're worrying me."

"Don't worry 'bout me; I'm going back to bed, all right?"

"Yes. Sleep and do whatever you need to be comfortable. Let me know how you feel."

"Righto. Bye, Lovino."

"Take care of yourself."

…

Well, this sucked. It was always a pain in the ass to have a sick friend. But Arthur _was_ his friend, and he _was_ sick, so…Lovino was going to take care of him. What the hell; he didn't really have anything else to do today. Work could wait. And this might help make up for some of his own stupid behavior the other night, too. At least he hadn't gotten sick while they were in Italy.

He spent the morning visiting various stores in the area, until the Spitfire's passenger seat was filled with bags of goodies. Lovino stopped for a quick lunch of a sandwich and chicken soup (purely as a preventative measure) and then headed over to Arthur's.

When he rang the doorbell he heard some weak moaning, feet shuffling through the apartment, and then Arthur's hoarse voice shouting "I told you not to come here!" followed by some coughing.

"Are you staring at me through the peephole? Stop that; it's rude. Let me in, my arms hurt."

"Your _arms?_" Arthur, dressed in striped flannel pajamas and thick white socks, opened the door; Lovino pushed past him to put all the shopping bags on the floor. When he turned back to look at his friend he was shocked at his reddened eyes and pathetic expression.

"Dammit, you look _terrible._"

"Thanks a lot. Why are you here? You're going to get sick!" Arthur sneezed.

"Bless you."

"Wanker."

"Listen, idiot, I can't just sit around doing nothing while you're sick! I brought you some stuff."

"Huh. What stuff?" Arthur blew his nose.

"Come and sit down."

The blond made it to the couch and wrapped up in a blanket. Lovino carried all the bags to the coffee table and set them down before pulling items out of each bag. "First: flu medicine. Want me to mix it up for you? It's the kind you mix with hot water. I got the Severe Cold kind because you sound like shit."

"You really are such a _kind_ and _compassionate_ git."

"Shut up. Sarcasm does not work right when you're sick. I also brought tissues, and nasal spray, and a hot water bottle. That's all from the drugstore."

"Thanks." He sneezed again.

Lovino reached for the new tissue box and threw it to him. "Bless you."

"Stop doing that; we'll be here all day. I'll just pretend you always say 'bless you,' all right? What else did you bring?" Arthur struggled to open the tissue box.

"From the regular grocery store, Gatorade, to hydrate you, and four kinds of cookies, to cheer you up, because I don't know what kind you like. Three kinds of fresh soup: tomato, chicken, and vegetable. Also some fried chicken. I don't know if you like it but I always like it when I have a sore throat. I brought spicy and regular. And some teabags and lemons."

"Bollocks. If I weren't sick we could have a _picnic_." Arthur snorted, but because his nose was stuffed, it wasn't very effective. "Anything else in those bags?"

Lovino blushed and fiddled with the last bag. "Well, yes. I – uh –"

"What? Chocolate?" He shook his head. "Ugh. I very strongly hope it's not chocolate."

"It's – it's not chocolate, Arthur. Shut up a minute, would you? I – uh – I went to the gourmet grocery store and got some English stuff for you. Scones, ginger nuts, and even some – some bangers and mash from their deli."

Arthur's eyes were wide. "Lovino! Where is there a store that sells that stuff? That's marvelous!" He started coughing. "Thank you so much. That's possibly the most thoughtful thing anybody ever did for me when I was sick."

"Cheh. I'm a most thoughtful kind of guy."

Arthur just nodded.

"And I brought Scrabble so we'd have something to do." He hoped Arthur wouldn't find that too geeky, but if he was going to stay here and look after the bastard all afternoon, he'd need to do _something._ Yes, he'd brought his laptop, but that wasn't very sociable.

"I love Scrabble," Arthur wheezed, and Lovino got a very big grin on his face.

"All right, fine. So what do you want first?"

"Flu medicine, please. How do I make it?"

Lovino explained about this kind of medicine, and Arthur shuffled weakly to the kitchen, still wrapped in the blanket, to put the kettle on. Then he shuffled weakly back. "It will take a little while to boil."

"I'll go take care of it when it does, idiot. You just – get comfortable somewhere. Lie down on the couch." Lovino arranged some pillows and Arthur lay back, sneezing again.

"You're the idiot. You're going to get sick, Lovino."

"Chigi! I'll deal with that if it happens. I have a pretty strong constitution. I haven't gotten the flu for about five years."

Arthur grinned nastily at him. "You know you just tempted fate, saying that. You _are_ going to get sick."

"Fine, I'll get sick, and you can come take care of me." He turned red.

"Can't. Don't know where you live." Arthur started coughing, and the whistle on the kettle went off.

"I'll get it." Lovino hastened to the kitchen, mostly to escape the discussion. It was true; Arthur still hadn't been to his house. In fact Lovino couldn't remember even telling him whereabouts he lived. Now he really hoped he wouldn't get sick. He knew Arthur would feel bound to come take care of him in return, and – well – it was just not a good idea to get sick. He wasn't ready to show him his house yet.

When he came back with the medicine Arthur was rifling through the bag from the gourmet store. "Stuff should probably go in the refrigerator, but I want the bangers and mash right now."

"Sure, eat them now, if you want. I had lunch before I came over. I might have some of the tomato soup, though. It smelled really good."

"Yes. Blast, I need a knife and fork."

Lovino sighed. "I'll get them. You stay put."

"No, wait. There are plastic ones here in the bag. I can use those. Sit down." He coughed a little but managed to get his food organized. "If you want some of the soup, there are bowls in the kitchen."

Lovino picked up all the food that needed refrigeration and put it away. "Do you need anything else while I'm up?" he called from the kitchen.

"Eh, no. Just – argh."

"Argh what, sick bastard?" Lovino laughed, coming back in with his soup.

"Argh, nothing; I feel so bad, and I'm going to be miserable company, and then I'm going to make the boss sick…today's not a good day."

"Shut up about me getting sick, would you?"

"Hah." He lay back and began eating his lunch. "Oh, bollocks."

"What now?"

"Can't taste it. _Blast!_"

"Don't worry about it, stupid. Eat it. When you're better I'll take you to the store and you can get whatever you want."

Arthur gave him a very sweet look, which was somewhat marred by his inflamed eyes and nose reddened from tissues.

"You look idiotic like that. Lie down and eat."

"Yes, boss."

Lovino wadded up a paper napkin and threw it at him.

"Hey! Stop throwing stuff around my nice clean apartment!" Arthur started coughing again.

"I did think there was something different about the place. Why is it so clean?"

"No real reason. I was just trying to make an effort to be neater."

"Good idea. I hope you weren't cleaning while you were sick."

"No," Arthur moaned. "All I've been doing while I'm sick is lying around, moaning, and dealing with you." He sniffled.

"Good. Finish your food, and drink the flu medicine."

Arthur nodded weakly and gulped all the medicine down as fast as he could. "Er – is this medicine going to put me to sleep?"

"Huh, probably. I didn't even think of that. Well, I brought my laptop; I'll be able to do some work if you sleep. Just relax, all right?"

"All right," the blond grumbled. He lay back on the couch and wheezed. "Why are you being so considerate?"

"Stupid. You're my friend; I don't like you being sick."

"Yes, well, I don't like it either." He stared around the room a little. "As long as you're here, I…er, I have something to ask you."

"Ask whatever you want."

"There's a painting I want to show you. That I finally finished. Will you look at it?"

Lovino smiled. "Of course I will, idiot. I love to look at your work." He was more interested than he was letting on, though. He wondered what it was. And then he kind of had an idea of what it might be, and got a bit embarrassed, but didn't say anything. Better to wait and see. He got his glasses out of his pocket so he'd be able to see it better, but didn't put them on yet.

"Come into the workroom." They walked up to the easel; Arthur kept the blanket around him. "I. Er."

"What now?"

"I…this painting…you…"

"Don't be so edgy. Just show me the fucking painting, all right?" Then Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sound rude about it."

Arthur tried to laugh, but ended up coughing again. "We really need to stop apologizing to each other all the time. It's tedious."

"Ha. I agree. From now on I'm just going to say what I want to say, and you have to deal with it. All right?"

"Yes, and me too." They smiled at each other. "All right, here. I do want to tell you about this before I show you." He sneezed.

"Bless you. Tell away." Lovino put his glasses on.

"Remember…with the sketchbooks." He took a deep breath, but Lovino just nodded. "I remember telling you that I'd started a painting before we even met, a painting of you at the diner. This is that painting."

Lovino shrugged. "Quit stalling. Let's have a look."

So Arthur sniffled and then whipped the sheet off the easel in one nervous swoop. He was standing slightly behind Lovino, and they looked at the canvas together.

"You thought I'd be upset about this? Frankly, if you hadn't told me that this was me, I might never have known."

"It's that bad?" Arthur asked in shock.

"What? No! No, it's a great painting, but the figure of – of me, it's kind of small, not even looking up at the viewer, and anyway, those glasses look ridiculous. Why'd you make them look so nerdy?"

"Er…"

"I thought we were going to be more direct with each other?"

"Fine. Your glasses _are_ nerdy. They're too severe for your face. They look just like that. I've thought so ever since I first saw you that night."

"You're joking. I look that bad when I have them on?" Lovino took the glasses off and looked at them, and then looked back at the painting, absent-mindedly stowing the glasses in his shirt pocket. It might be better if he couldn't focus. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because it wasn't until just now that we decided to be more direct with each other!" Arthur turned away and looked out the window, but Lovino started laughing.

"You really are a very funny person to be around," he said, eventually. "Even Feli doesn't make me laugh like this."

"Are you mocking me?" Arthur didn't turn around.

"Of course not, you idiot. Turn back."

Arthur turned back.

"I like this painting, bastard. It looks just like the diner. What do you want to do with it? Sell it? Exhibit it?"

"I don't even know. I kind of don't want to sell it, because – well, it has – er –"

"Say it!"

"Sentimental value for me, all right?" Arthur yelled, raking his hand through his hair, making it stand up. Then he blushed and looked away, folding his arms, but Lovino put out a hand and touched his shoulder.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be pushy."

"It's all right. Didn't mean to yell." He coughed.

"Cheh, here we go again. Well, if you didn't want to sell it, what are you going to do with it?"

"I don't even know! Do _you_ want it?"

Lovino looked at it again. "Not sure. Not sure I could stand seeing it all the time, knowing that was me."

"But if you think it doesn't even look like you –"

"But I would _still know!_"

"Maybe I should just burn the blasted thing," Arthur muttered, coughing.

"Could you – could you _change it_?"

"What do you mean?"

"Uh. If I had a different pair of glasses?" Lovino turned red, scrubbing his hand over his face, and Arthur started laughing at him, followed by more coughing.

"Vanity, thy name is Lovino."

"Shut up."

Arthur shut up, and they looked at the painting together.

"But _could_ you change it?" Lovino asked again, rather meekly.

Arthur burst out laughing, and then coughing, again. "Yes, wanker, I could change it. Even if you didn't have a different pair of glasses. I can do glasses from memory."

"Well…maybe you should." Lovino could tell he was still red. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Maybe I will. Let me think about it."

"Come back to the couch and lie down. You shouldn't be wandering around like this when you're sick." Lovino tried to push him back towards the couch.

They settled in again. Lovino finished his cooling soup while they stared at each other. Arthur looked fucking _miserable_. His eyes were puffy and kept watering. Every now and then he'd sneeze or cough. Every time he did, Lovino cringed. He really hated the idea of him being sick.

"Can't paint much when you're sick, I bet?" he asked idly.

"True. I get a lot of good ideas for Surrealist paintings, though, from my weird dreams."

"I do kind of like the Surrealists. I like to see what kind of visions float out of peoples' heads."

"Maybe I'll paint one, then. Whatever I dream about tonight, I'll paint, we can see if you like it."

"Deal."

Arthur sneezed, and then yawned. "That medicine is pretty powerful. I'm really sleepy."

"Don't worry about me. You want to sleep, sleep."

"Are you seriously planning to hang around here all day? While I _sleep_?"

"Cheh, maybe. I can do most of my work from my laptop. Besides, if you wake up and need something, I can get it for you. It's not right to leave you all – all alone like this." Lovino blushed, but Arthur's eyes were shut, so he didn't feel too self-conscious.

"Thank you," Arthur whispered, and that was the last thing he said for a while.

When his light snoring began Lovino smiled and got up to clean up the food items. He made himself another cup of tea and came back out, booting up his laptop and checking his stock performance as well as his emails. Things were fairly steady. He'd given the hotel manager an earful on the telephone after returning from vacation, but hadn't fired him (yet). His private room was now permanently on lockdown unless he came in person and got the key. He hoped this would work out right.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled after opening the next email. Arthur didn't awaken. Good news! Someone wanted to buy the house in Rome already. He read through the details of the offer. It was acceptable; slightly lower than he wanted, but not by much, and they could take it off his hands in early June. Hmm. He'd need to do something about the personal possessions before then. He shot an email back to his estate agent confirming acceptance of the offer, asking if the buyer might be interested in the furnishings as well. This was damn good news. If he got that off his plate his portfolio could be even more streamlined.

Nothing much else was happening online, so he sent Feli a chit-chatty email, telling him about the offer, and logged off. He set up the Scrabble board, in case Arthur woke up and felt like playing, although that did seem kind of farfetched at the moment.

Lovino then made himself another cup of tea and had some of the fried chicken. He really hoped he wouldn't get sick.

This led him to spend a little time thinking about why he didn't want to show Arthur his house. After all, the bastard had seen the ancestral seat (he snorted), why not let him see his modest Alexandrian townhouse?

Lovino adored his townhouse. Having been raised on that gigantic, pristine estate, with servants everywhere, he'd been so happy – so _relieved_ – to move far away from his stepfather, start fresh in America, and buy his own little independent home with some of the proceeds from the race car firm. It was in a historic area, not very big, but it was just right for him. Just right to live alone and not have the stresses of servants all around. Yes, he still had a lady come in and clean once a week, but that was absolutely not the same thing. He rented garage space from a guy down the road. That worked out well, too.

So why was he so tense about showing Arthur?

He worried that it might be because he was too vain. That he'd built up these expectations of being a rich bastard, and that Arthur would be – who knows, _let down_ or something, by the reality of Lovino's local lifestyle.

Ultimately he decided he didn't need to worry so much. Arthur wasn't a parasite. He wouldn't think less of his friend for living quietly. In fact he suspected Arthur would actually like it a lot more than the house in Rome, given his reaction to the servants and things at Christmas.

This led Lovino back to thinking about the offer on the house. If it really did sell, he'd need to spend quite some time there, maybe two or three weeks, arranging for disposition of the personal items. He wondered whether Arthur would want to go back with him, and then decided he probably wouldn't.

Thoughts like this eventually caused him to drift into a little dozy state.

When he woke up it was dark out. Arthur was awake on the couch, reading, smiling fondly at him in the light from a table lamp. "I hope you're just tired, and not – you know," he said.

"I'm fine." He opted not to talk about the real estate issue, even though he knew Arthur would be happy to hear it was selling so quickly. They could talk about it some other time. He stood and stretched. "But I'm going to go now; I ought to get some stuff done. Sorry I fell asleep."

"Not a problem. I was sleeping until just now, too."

"I'll leave the Scrabble board? Then you'll have it if we ever want to play together sometime." He blushed. It looked like Arthur was a little red, too, but that may have been from the flu. "Do you need anything else before I go?" Lovino busied himself packing up his laptop.

"No. I've got all I need right now, thanks." He led Lovino to the door. "You really are a good friend. Thank you for taking such good care of me, Lovino. Please don't get sick," he finished, coughing. "Take care of yourself."

"I will." He put his hand briefly on Arthur's shoulder before turning and walking away. "Call me tomorrow. Good night."

…

_I got sick over New Year's, so I had to slip this in there, plus it was just crying out for that painting as a chapter title. _


	37. The Persistence of Memory

**The Persistence of Memory. **(Salvador Dalí, oil on canvas, 1931)

Lovino and Arthur were wandering around Alexandria, drinking coffee, shopping, just spending the day together. They hadn't had anything in particular to do today. After all the thinking he'd done during his friend's sickness, Lovino had decided he was being stupid about not showing Arthur his house. So he was considering inviting him over for the first time, but…he wasn't quite sure yet. At least they were in the right area, if he decided it was opportune. And dammit, he still needed to talk to him about possibly going to Rome to deal with the artworks and shit. He couldn't even remember whether he'd told Arthur that the house had sold.

He had not, in fact, gotten sick, and Arthur had been most humorously grateful to him for his care. In return, Lovino had been most humorously boastful about his own rude good health.

They had stopped for scones at the gourmet grocery store. Arthur couldn't cook worth a damn, and after recuperating had demanded a trip to this store. Lovino had laughed to see him eagerly choosing things to buy and eat. Conversation today had touched on almost every topic imaginable, except work. He was really happy about that. _And_ he was wearing his gloves, which he had rather ostentatiously flourished, proving he hadn't yet lost them. This had made Arthur laugh. The two friends had had a good day so far, a very easy, lighthearted day together.

"Hey, _Arthur!_" they heard.

Both men looked across the street to see Arthur's albino friend waving at them, holding the hand of a slighter blond man in a pink puffy coat. The two of them crossed the street towards Arthur and Lovino.

"Hey, how are you, man?" Gilbert punched Arthur in the arm before turning to look at Lovino. "Oh!" His eyes grew wide and he fought to suppress a smirk. Arthur punched him back.

"Don't be a git. Introduce me."

"Arthur, my friend, may I present Feliks?" Feliks smiled shyly and shook Arthur's hand. "And this is –"

"This is _my_ _friend_, Lovino," Arthur interrupted sternly.

Lovino and Feliks shook hands. "Pleased to meet you," the brunet said politely. Feliks nodded and flipped his hair away from his face with a smile.

"I – I know this is going to sound really rude," Gilbert then said, "but…can I talk to Artie alone for a minute? I need to tell him some stuff. It's pretty important."

"Be my guest," Lovino said dismissively. He rubbed his hand over his face. Hadn't Arthur said that the alb—that Gilbert had a girlfriend? Just like him to be playing the field. He wasn't surprised that Gilbert was dating a man, but he now found himself wondering about Arthur's – uh – dating preferences.

"Have you known each other long?" he asked Feliks, just to make conversation.

"Fer shure, we've totally known each other for a while, but we've only, like, just recently started going out."

Huh. This bastard had terrible grammar. Lovino promptly ignored him and looked over at the other two. Arthur looked very annoyed, and kept scrubbing his hands through his messy locks violently. Even Gilbert looked a bit disturbed.

Finally Arthur nodded. Gilbert took his hand and squeezed it. "Thanks," Lovino heard his friend say. The two of them came back and Gilbert immediately grabbed Feliks' hand again.

"Well, we, uh, we have to be going. Feliks has to dance tonight. I'll talk to you later, Artie, be careful, yeah? Bye, Lovino! Kesesese!"

Without waiting for a response they strolled away, Feliks looking back to wave with his free hand.

Lovino turned to Arthur. "Are you all right?"

"Er. I don't know."

"Want to talk about it?"

Arthur looked like he was going to say no, but then he looked at Lovino – really _looked_ at him – and nodded forcefully, almost with surprise. "Yes. Yes, I would very much like to talk to you about it…but not out on the street. I, er…maybe a library or someplace? A park?" He looked up and down the street.

Well, that certainly made up Lovino's mind about one thing. "Come on, bastard. Let's go get in the car. There's someplace I want to show you."

…

They pulled into the driveway of one of the historic townhouses. "What is this place?" Arthur asked. It was quite lovely, on a beautiful quiet street.

"This…this is my house. Come in. I – I've been wanting to invite you over for a while, but…never quite found the right time to offer."

Arthur got out of the car, leaving the groceries for later, since there was nothing immediately perishable in the bag. "Do you live alone?"

"Of course I live alone! What did you think? You think I need a roommate to help me pay rent?" He laughed.

"Git. I thought you lived with _servants_."

"Just – just come in, dammit." He led the way into the house. "Let me have your coat." Arthur handed his coat to his friend, who hung it and his own in the hall closet. "Sit down, sit down." Lovino gestured to the sofa.

So Arthur sat. "Er – could we – could we have a fire?" he asked in a slightly hesitant voice. It would definitely be easier to talk about this if they were gazing into the fireplace, and not sitting on the couch staring at each other.

"Whatever you want. Grab some pillows if you want to be on the floor. Do you want coffee? Tea?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." So Lovino moved to lay a fire and Arthur got the pillows in place. He hugged his pillow very tightly. This was not going to be easy.

Once the fire was going, Lovino came back to lie next to him. Arthur always found it so soothing to relax together this way. Just knowing his friend was there for support…

"So what's the problem?" But Lovino kept his eyes on the fire, for which Arthur was grateful.

"Give me a minute, all right? I need to work this out in my head first."

"Sure. Or – if you want to be alone, I can – can go away?"

Arthur looked at him with a very sad expression. "No. Don't go." He looked back at the fire.

"I don't want you to be stressed. If I can help, please tell me how."

Arthur nodded, staring at the fire, chin on the pillow.

For a little while neither of them said anything. Arthur could almost feel Lovino's curious glances, but he kept his eyes resolutely on the fire.

Then he rolled over and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling instead. "I never told you what brought me to America," he began.

"That fucking albino?" Lovino asked in disbelief. "Dammit, I'll kill the bastard, if he hurt you."

"_Gilbert?_ Er, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I do see how you could think that. But no. Gilbert has always been just a friend. He –" Arthur interrupted himself and frowned.

"If you don't want to tell me…"

"I do want to tell you. I'm just going to talk, all right? Please don't interrupt me. It might take me a while."

"Say what you need to say. I'm listening."

Arthur just nodded. He took a few more minutes and then started talking. "I – met a man. An American man. He was staying in London for the summer. We – I – I thought I was…in love with him," he confessed in a quiet tone, "and so I moved to Washington to be with him." He wondered whether Lovino would think less of him for dating a man, but it was too late to worry about that now.

There was a long silence here while he thought about various aspects of this. Lovino didn't interrupt.

"I thought being in Washington would help me find places to sell my art, too. It's so famous for that…museums, galleries…"

Another long silence. Arthur kept staring at the ceiling.

"He – a few months after I moved over here, he – he ran off with someone else." He was embarrassed to say that, so he said it very quickly, to get it over with. "That was…maybe a year before I met you. I was…very upset…_very upset_, that someone could do that to me, after I'd – pulled up my life to cross the ocean for him. It felt like I would…not ever trust anyone again."

Lovino nodded; Arthur could see that out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you remember the first day I showed you my paintings?"

"Of course I do. I'll never forget that day." Lovino's voice was soft and encouraging.

Arthur closed his eyes at that, but opened them to look at the ceiling again. "There was a painting. That I showed you. I – I painted it after he – left me. A bird in a tree. You said you sold it. Before the reception."

"Yes."

"That bird – my heart – I –" Arthur's voice broke and he stopped talking. This discussion was dredging up so much old pain…and then he felt Lovino reach over and take his hand. His hand was so warm and so strong…a little part of his mind was surprised that Lovino didn't immediately pull away, but Arthur held his hand gratefully.

"Gilbert was a friend of his; that's how we met." He paused again. "He just told me that Alfred is back in town. Apparently his boyfriend dumped him for someone else, so he came back to Washington."

"Is he – looking for you?"

"Yes…and sodding Gilbert told him where I work now."

"Do you – will you –" Lovino apparently couldn't finish his question, and he let go of Arthur's hand.

"No. I have no interest in him anymore; I think back to our time together and I can't even remember what drew me to him."

"Maybe – maybe when you see him again, you'll remember."

"Maybe. But –"

A long silence.

When a half hour had passed without Arthur speaking again, Lovino sat up. "Will you come into the dining room with me? I need to show you something."

Arthur gave him a very confused look, but stood up and followed him.

Lovino pulled out a chair. "Sit down."

Arthur sat, looking trustingly at his friend, who gestured to the opposite wall.

When Arthur looked up, he was very glad he'd sat down first. The first thing he saw was the watercolor he'd given Lovino at Christmas, the perky bird in the budding tree. This made him smile a little, and then he wondered whether Lovino now understood the significance of _that_ bird, _that_ tree.

But then he looked at the wall again. The other painting was there, too…the first one, the painful one. _Lovino_ had bought that painting…he must have taken it straight from the workroom to his home that night. Arthur put his head in his arms, down on the table, to hide his rising tears, taking deep breaths.

A few painful moments later he felt a soft touch on his hair. Lovino's warm hand began gently stroking him, tentatively, like a child petting a wild rabbit. He didn't speak, and Arthur didn't look up, didn't want to frighten him away. But his touch was so calming.

"I…used to feel like that, too," Lovino murmured. At that, Arthur felt the tears fall from his eyes and was glad he'd hidden them from view.

After what seemed like a very long time, he felt Lovino remove his hand. Arthur tried to get a grip on himself and looked up, pressing his eyes against his sleeves to absorb the remaining tears first. He looked at the painting again. "I'm glad to know you're keeping it safe."

Lovino put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Are – are you all right?"

He pushed himself away from the table a little. "I will be." He looked into his friend's eyes and smiled weakly. Lovino looked nearly as troubled as he was.

"Do you want to go out for a walk or something? Want to be alone? Whatever you need."

He thought about this. "Home, I think. I think I need to be alone for a while."

"Come on, I'll drive you over."

…

After a silent, pensive ride home, Lovino had dropped him off, encouraging him to telephone if he wanted to talk. Arthur stood in the lobby watching until the Spitfire was out of sight, and then went slowly upstairs to calm his troubled heart.


	38. Convergence

**Convergence.** (Jackson Pollock, oil on canvas, 1952)

Lovino hadn't spoken to Arthur since Saturday, when he'd dropped him at his apartment. He had spent the rest of the weekend worrying, wondering if he'd been too forward, or maybe not supportive enough, wondering why Arthur hadn't called him to talk. Maybe that bastard had shown up and Arthur had changed his mind, had gone out on a date with him, hadn't needed or wanted to talk. Maybe—

After trying and failing to work most of the morning on Monday, he decided to run down to the gallery after lunch. At least he could reassure himself that Arthur was all right. Then he wouldn't be distracted by this issue any more. He hoped his friend wouldn't be upset if he dropped in.

Lovino was worrying more than usual. If he hadn't been wearing his gloves, he would have started biting his nails…always a very bad sign. He almost took the gloves off, just so he could do that! But he controlled this urge and drove on.

Some idiot had parked in the gallery's reserved spot, so he drove a little further and parked on the street. It was a nice day, sunny and clear although still quite cold. He took some deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves.

His nerves! Why was he nervous?

Lovino's footsteps slowed as he approached the gallery's front door. He _was_ nervous, and he didn't know why, and it was agitating him. Instead of entering, he paced back and forth a little, out of sight of the windows. He watched a client enter, a young, casually-dressed blond man with glasses. Well, he didn't want to interrupt Arthur when he was with a client.

He dithered some more and decided to go around to the back entrance. He could wait by the vault until the client was gone. Lovino turned and walked the long way around the block so he wouldn't need to pass in front of the windows and distract his friend.

But when he entered the back door he could hear shouting coming from the front. Arthur's voice, shouting. What was the client doing? Arthur was a professional – he wouldn't be yelling for no reason. Lovino hastened to the front of the display area and stopped in shock as he saw the tall blond client embracing Arthur, who was red-faced and struggling. Neither of them noticed his entrance. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he stopped struggling, trying to turn to face Lovino; the other man dropped his arms from the embrace and backed away until he bumped the edge of the big desk. Then he leaned against it, staring at Lovino.

Lovino stared back. Could this be – But he could worry about that later. He turned to his friend. "Are you all right?" His voice was still a bit harsh, but this was fucking annoying. He didn't need people coming in and molesting his employees!

Arthur nodded. "I'm – I'm very sorry. I know this is not an appropriate time or place for personal business." He looked away, apparently not able to meet either Lovino's eyes or those of the other man.

Lovino stepped a little closer to him – just a very little bit – and dropped his voice. "Is he – if – if you need to – to leave, and go talk to him, go ahead; I can watch the gallery." He turned red, fiercely hoping Arthur would say no, and stay.

"I _don't_ want to talk to him!" Arthur yelled, startling both the others. "I already told him that when he came in here." He stalked up to the other man. "I told you, I am _over you_, and I don't want to see you again, and you need to get out of this gallery now, before I hurt you." He was very angry, his fists clenched, and he did look like he could hurt someone, if pushed hard enough.

Astonishingly, the stranger laughed. "You couldn't hurt me," he crooned, seeming not to care that someone else was listening to them. "You know you still want me. You know how good I can make you feel…" He had a smug grin on his handsome face, and Lovino wanted to punch him right in the mouth. He couldn't take this anymore.

"Arthur may not be able to hurt you, but if you don't get out of here now, I will." Maybe he was overstepping his bounds as a friend, but he could certainly get this bastard out of his place of business.

"You! What the hell could _you_ do?" the man scoffed, rising and walking menacingly towards Lovino.

At that, Arthur yanked on his arm; when the man spun off balance, Arthur took a swing at him and knocked him back onto the desk. The stranger jumped up and grabbed his wrist, squeezing it tightly. "Artie –"

But Lovino was beyond angry now. He grabbed a small sculpture off a display and brandished it like a club. "Get the fuck out of my gallery, before I have to call the cops," he snarled, advancing on the pair. Though he didn't want to do that. He'd rather beat the shit out of this bastard with the sculpture.

The man dropped Arthur's wrist. "Look, Arthur," he pleaded, ignoring Lovino again. "Can't we just talk?"

"I don't understand what you want to talk about. I have no interest in talking to you. You think that after two years I'm just going to come swanning back into your arms? After you _left _me? You're delusional."

So this _was_ that man. Well, Lovino had sort of known it. Looking at him, he could see just what had drawn Arthur to him; he was very attractive. But – but Arthur wasn't interested in him anymore…

He could see the stranger thinking the same thing. "You – you _really_ don't care?"

"Not one bit. I don't even understand how you could think that I would do such a thing. Get out of here."

Lovino held his breath as the two men talked in front of him. He was proud of Arthur for being so strong. While he listened, he gently replaced the sculpture on its stand.

"Huh. Doesn't that just suck."

"I suppose it might." Arthur frowned a little more and gestured towards the door. "Please just leave, Alfred. This is my place of employment, and you're disrupting things. You should have known better than to behave in such an uncouth fashion."

"Pfft. Now I remember why I left you. You're too fucking _stuffy_." This Alfred pushed himself off the desk and shoved Arthur away from him. Arthur stumbled, but kept his wits about him and didn't say anything in response.

Before the newly-angered Lovino could advance on him again, the young man headed towards the front door. "Don't worry, Artie. I'm going, and I'll leave you alone. I can do better: younger, hotter, _lots_ more fun. Have a good life, boring, all alone, and sour! I hope you lose your job, now, too, ha ha!" He continued laughing loudly as he walked out the door, not looking behind him.

Arthur went immediately to the desk and braced himself on it, hanging his head, taking and then letting out a deep, deep breath. "I'm – _so_ _sorry_."

Lovino's only response was to lock the door and drop the blinds. It was early afternoon, but he didn't think that either he or Arthur would be able to focus on work any longer. Then he came over to stand next to his friend, resting his hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You didn't start it, and you behaved – pretty well, considering your provocation. Except maybe when you slugged him. You beat me to it." Lovino laughed a little, and Arthur looked up at him in amazement.

"You're not angry?"

"Not at you, bastard! What the hell else were you supposed to do? You handled it pretty well. Are you all right?" He took off his coat and gloves and threw them on the desk.

Instead of answering this, Arthur just boggled at him. "You never react the way I expect you to."

This made Lovino laugh a little more, but then he suddenly remembered why he was there, and got nervous again. He turned from Arthur.

"What's the matter? Was there some reason you came down today?"

"Well, yes, dammit. I – I wanted to make sure you were all right…not upset with me for any reason."

"No, I'm not! I'm never upset with you. Why did you think I would be?"

At the sound of his voice, so calm, so _not upset_, Lovino turned back to him. "I – I don't even know! I thought maybe I hadn't been – been supportive enough, the other day, when you told me about him…or something…you didn't call, and I thought maybe I'd done something to upset you."

"No. I'm sorry you were disturbed about it. I didn't want to burden you with any more of my personal problems."

"Idiot! That's what friends are for." Lovino felt himself blushing and looked down at the floor, repeating in a more quiet tone, "That's what friends are – are for."

"Yes," Arthur said, coming to stand closer to him. "Thanks."

Lovino looked up at his friend and felt a rush of affection for him. He reached out and lightly stroked Arthur's cheek, smiling.

Then he realized what he was doing and yanked his hand away, turning around. Chigi! Why did he keep doing this shit?

Arthur didn't say anything. When Lovino finally worked up his nerve to look at him again, the blond was smiling sweetly at him. "Can we please close up for the day?" he asked.

"Yes." Lovino was relieved that he apparently hadn't done anything too stupid. "Want to – to do anything? To make up for Saturday being – being –"

"That would be really nice." Arthur was still using the soft voice. "Is there a park or someplace? Somewhere I haven't seen yet, outside the city?"

Lovino thought. "Yes. I've got just the place. Do you have your sketchbook here? You might like it enough to draw something."

"Yes. Hold on, I'll go get my things."

While he was in the back office, Lovino took a deep breath and blew it out again. This was all so confusing.

…


	39. Garden of Earthly Delights

**Garden of Earthly Delights. **(Hieronymus Bosch, oil on oak wood, 1510)

"Where are we going?" Arthur sounded very excited. Well, Lovino was excited, too; he hadn't been to Great Falls in a long time, but he knew his friend would like it. And on a Monday afternoon in January, it would probably be pretty empty, too.

"You'll see," was all he said, grinning. "I'm really glad it's a clear day for it, and – well, you'll see." They were already out of the city and into northern Virginia. "You're all right about that bastard?" He was kind of afraid to ask, but he needed to know.

"Yes. What a tosser. You were wrong, though. When I saw him, I still didn't remember why I –" Arthur interrupted himself.

"That's good, then. You're definitely over him. I was proud of you." Lovino started blushing, but Arthur didn't look at him. That was good.

"I – I guess I'm too spoiled by your company, now."

Lovino didn't quite know how to respond to that, so he didn't say anything.

"Thanks," the blond suddenly blurted.

"For what?"

"Everything! I love being off work in the afternoon. I kind of miss it, from when I worked at the diner. I used to work from four until midnight, then go home and sleep until about ten, and then have the afternoon free. That was when I did most of my painting."

Lovino grew thoughtful. "Do you miss that? Having all that free time for painting?"

"Well, of course I do, but I'm not going to give up my fantastic job under my fantastic employer just so I can paint." He grinned, as did Lovino, although Lovino also turned a little red at his choice of phrasing.

"I'm asking for a reason, though."

"You're going to fire me?" Arthur laughed. "Give me more free time?"

"Shut up, stupid. No. I, uh. Well. The building with the gallery, it's up for sale. I was thinking of buying it, and moving my office into one of the upstairs areas. But also, the second floor used to be a dance studio or something; half of it's basically just a big open room with hardwood floors and windows on three sides. A lot of light. I thought that if you wanted, you – you could – maybe have that for your workroom? Then you could take some time in the afternoons, to paint, and I could…come down and watch over the gallery for you?"

"You – you're serious? You'd do that for me?"

Lovino snorted. "Well, it's not just for_ you,_ bastard; that coffee shop next door does damn good business, and there are two apartments on the top floor; it's a pretty sound business proposition, and then I'd have my office there. I could give up paying rent on my current office." That all sounded very clinical, so he looked at Arthur with a grin and added, "But yeah. I'd do that for you." He turned his attention back to the road.

"Thank you, Lovino. That's…I don't even know what to say."

"Would you be interested?"

"Yes! I really miss painting during the week. But if you – what about your other work? Would you really be able to spare the time to watch the gallery?"

"Cheh, yes, of course I would. If there were more room there, I'd just set up my office in the damn gallery. All I need is a desk and space for my computer stuff and a file cabinet. When – when I met you, I owned five businesses, and now I only own three, so…it's not that demanding anymore."

"What happened? They – they didn't, er, go under, did they?"

"What? No, I sold them." What the hell, he might as well tell him about them. "One was a French vineyard, and the other was a publishing house. And I'm still thinking of selling the fucking hotel in Rome, too. Bastards."

"It would have been nice to stay there," Arthur admitted. "It looked like a very elegant place." Then he looked out the window of the car and turned red.

Lovino wondered why. Then he remembered they'd have had to share a room. He blushed, too, and didn't respond. Dammit.

In another minute he turned off the road through the gates leading to the park. He'd been right - the place was pretty empty. Most of the trees were still bare; they could hear the loud roar of the river. After they got out of the car, Arthur eagerly grabbed his bag with the sketchbook and pencils in it. "Where do we go? I want to see!"

"This way," Lovino laughed, gesturing him down the path.

Arthur followed him down the path to Lovino's favorite fenced overlook. Below them, the roaring waters of the Potomac River coursed over rapids; a few dark birds wheeled in the sky. Lovino turned to see his friend staring in admiration at the magnificent vista. Hell, he knew this had been the right place to bring Arthur on this beautiful day.

He smiled at his dazed friend and jerked his head towards the rocks beyond the railing. "Want to sit down?"

Arthur nodded. "Are we allowed to go past the railing?"

"Yes, as long as we're careful. If we're just going to sit there, then it's not a problem." They carefully climbed out onto the rocks and sat watching the majesty of the Potomac as it frothed and foamed below. "Business suits and overcoats aren't the most sensible attire for this. Sorry."

"Who cares? It's not every day we get to skive off together!" They smiled at each other.

A few brave kayakers were visible, bright spots of color in an otherwise pale scene. "I definitely want to sketch and paint this." Arthur opened his sketchbook right away. "I would never have had any idea this was here. _Thanks._"

"No problem. I love this place." Lovino dangled his legs over the edge of the rock, staring at the water and thinking about things, while Arthur worked.

"That guy's an idiot," Lovino eventually said.

"What guy?" Arthur looked around.

"Your – Albert, or whatever the hell his name is."

"Sodding Alfred. Shut up about him, please; he's not part of my life anymore, and you are, and I don't want to be talking about him when we're here on this beautiful day together." Arthur blushed a little as he said this. He kept his face turned towards the sketchbook and began making some preliminary marks on the paper.

For a few minutes neither said anything, and then apparently Arthur couldn't take it anymore. "Why is he an idiot?" He didn't look up.

"Cheh. Anybody who ran out on _you_ has to be pretty fucking stupid." Lovino kept his eyes on the river vista.

"I'm forced to agree," Arthur laughed. He kept working.

Lovino slipped into a dreamy reverie, staring at the water. "Arthur," he said, after a while.

"What?"

"What's it like? Uh, dating, dating a man, I mean." He turned his head completely away; he could feel his face burning, but dammit, he really wanted to know the answer. He'd never really felt able to ask Feliciano. He could tell, even without looking, that Arthur had stopped working. Dammit. Maybe the question was too nosy? He didn't trust himself to say anything else, but he did turn his head back and stare at his lap. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend begin drawing again.

Arthur's voice was light. "Depends on the man, I guess. Alfred was – was fun on dates, when he got his own way, but…not very, I don't know, not serious enough about real life. Er. For a very long time now, I've been happy things worked out the way they did."

Lovino peeked at him. His face was turned down to the sketchbook, and stained a little pink. He watched his friend work for a while before trying to pick up the conversation again. "Do you – uh." No, he couldn't keep asking these – these _personal questions. _It was too pushy. He looked down at the kayakers.

When Lovino didn't continue, Arthur looked up from his work. "I thought we were going to be more direct? Stop beating around the bush." He closed his sketchbook.

"No. Go back to your work. Don't stare at me, dammit." He rubbed his face.

Arthur shrugged and opened his sketchbook. He leaned back a bit, bracing himself on the rock with his hands, and stared out at the water instead.

"Ah, never mind." Lovino decided he didn't want to distress his friend.

The blond glared at him. "Oh, no, you don't. I hate it when people do that. Bloody hell, that's infuriating."

"Fine. Give me a minute." He definitely couldn't go on yet. Lovino listened to the tumult of the river, a sound he'd always loved. It seemed more intense than usual, today. He rubbed his face again. "Just – I – I've been thinking about something. A lot," he admitted quietly.

Arthur's eyes flew back to the sketchbook on his lap.

"You do know how important to me you actually are." Lovino cleared his throat.

"Well, of course I do. I know you care about me." Arthur kept staring at the sketchbook. His voice dropped. "You – you know I care about you, too, right? You're my best friend."

Lovino looked over and saw that his friend's face was very red. He knew his was too, but he still wanted to talk about this. "Yes, I do know. I'm – very happy about that. About – having you in my life." He felt very daring as he reached out and touched Arthur's fingers lightly, where they were braced on the rock.

Arthur, still not meeting his eyes, slowly turned his hand over so that he was holding Lovino's gloved hand in his.

Lovino could feel the pounding of his heart above the roar of the river, but suddenly it was all a bit too much for him, all this intense emotion. "You – dammit, Arthur." He pulled his hand away from Arthur's and ran it over his face. "I – I –" Argh. He didn't even know what he wanted to say, or why he was stammering like an idiot. "Dammit. I don't even know what I'm talking about." He frowned back out at the water. What the fuck was the matter with him?

But Arthur seemed to know. He turned to Lovino with a soft smile and spoke in a low, comforting voice. "Lovino…_whatever_ you want. If you want to be friends, like we are, well, you're the best friend I _ever had_. That's more than I ever would have hoped for, to have someone like you in my life." Lovino began to smile. "But…if you ever want to be…closer…someday, I would like that, even better." Arthur put his hand up and stroked the hair away from Lovino's face.

Lovino closed his eyes and turned his face into the cup of Arthur's palm, breathing deeply. Ah, he should have realized his dear friend would understand, and help make it easier for him. He didn't say anything, and Arthur didn't take his hand away, for a while.

"I - I do want to be with you, Arthur. I don't like it when we're apart…I…want us to be together...to be safe, and – and to share…" He stopped talking and opened his eyes again. Arthur took his hand away, but used it to reach for Lovino's and hold it.

They sat holding hands for a few minutes, now smiling at each other. "Uh." Lovino turned his eyes back to the water…but he didn't let go of Arthur's hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I, uh…I've never…dated a man before. I'm a little nervous. A _lot_ nervous."

"We don't have to rush anything. I'm – flattered that you'd even consider me worth it."

"I didn't understand, for a very long time," Lovino confessed quietly, "why I was always so – so _flustered_ around you. That stupid night at the diner…with the fucking cheesecake. And all those other times. What an idiot I was." He laughed at himself a little. "I'm really glad you turned out to be who you are." He squeezed Arthur's hand.

"I'm glad, too." Arthur looked back at the water. "May I put my arm around you? I've been wanting to hold you, for so long…"

Lovino turned red, but nodded. Arthur put his arm casually around his waist, resting it on his hip. Lovino leaned closer to him, shyly nestling his head onto his friend's shoulder.

They sat like this for a long time, listening to the roaring of the river.

"I think Feliciano guessed that this might happen," Lovino eventually said.

"I think so too. That horrible night – he told me to look after you."

"And you did, bastard. You always do."

Arthur tightened his arm a little. "You ever going to stop calling me bastard?"

"Cheh. Don't know yet. Don't rush me."

"Fine, git. Whatever." Arthur turned his head and brushed his lips lightly through his friend's hair. "Today started out pretty dismal. Now it's the best day of my life."

"Mine too."

The river was damn beautiful today, Lovino thought. They should come here more often.

"Come on, let's walk," he said, after a while.

"What? Where?"

"How should I know? I just feel like walking. I'm getting antsy. Let's go up the river path."

"Whatever! Whatever you want, I told you. Let me put my stuff in the car."

"Fine."

…

First they went back to the car to drop off Arthur's bag. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, but could see that Lovino was still a little hesitant about all this, so he just walked beside him, not trying to hold his hand or anything else that would frighten him. If he was that nervous – and besides, they were out in public –

After they put the bag in the car, Lovino gestured to the path going upstream along the river. "Let's go this way. It's quieter."

"Sure."

Lovino now seemed even more nervous than he had before. "What's the matter?" Arthur finally asked.

"Aren't you –"

"What?"

"Dammit. Aren't you going to hold my hand?" He flushed deeply and ran his hand over his face.

Arthur started laughing. "Of course I will! I thought you were too nervous; I didn't want to rush you." He reached out and took his friend's hand. "Wait. Take the gloves off."

"What? No, I don't want to lose them."

"Don't be silly. I was going to take you to England anyway, whether you lost them or not, so just take them off! I want to hold your hand, not a glove."

"I'm not taking care of them just so I'll win a trip to England. I'm taking care of them because they were a gift from you. So don't be stupid."

"Take them off anyway, or I won't hold your hand."

"Demanding bastard."

They walked on for about a hundred yards before Lovino frowned and yanked the gloves off, stashing them in his pockets. Arthur laughed at this. "That's better." He took his friend's warm hand in his.

Nobody was around on the path. He made Lovino stop occasionally so they could look at things: fallen logs, the canopy of bare trees, the different river views as they moved upstream. "This is a _great_ place. You come here a lot?"

"Not so much anymore. It's probably been a couple of years. But I do love the water. For some reason, being near big majestic rivers, or oceans or lakes, always makes me feel very calm and at peace."

"Maybe you should move to a riverfront house, or something near the water."

"Maybe," was Lovino's vague response to this. Arthur was surprised. He'd thought it was a really sensible idea. Well, Lovino did love his townhouse. Maybe he just didn't want to move. Or maybe they were too expensive. He looked up and down the riverbanks and couldn't see any houses. Maybe there just weren't any available.

When they reached the end of the path, they stopped and admired the different river perspective. "I have so many paintings I want to do!" Arthur yelled exuberantly, spinning in place. Then he stopped spinning, picked Lovino up, and spun him around. "I feel _great."_

Lovino laughed at him, holding him around the shoulders for balance. "That's good. I always want you to feel great."

Arthur stopped spinning and set his friend down, taking both his hands. Lovino looked so happy that he had to ask him something. "Will you let me paint you now? Without getting all worried about it?"

"Worried about what?"

"Like…er…with the sketchbooks?"

"I got over all that a long time ago. Paint what you want to paint. I just…I want you to be happy; do what you want. If that means you need me to sit around – uh – modeling for you," he wrinkled his nose, "I'll do it."

"There's nobody on this path with us," Arthur blurted out.

"What are you talking about?" Lovino asked, but Arthur stepped forward and slid his arms around his friend's waist again. He checked to make sure Lovino wasn't freaking out about this – and he apparently wasn't; his face was flushed and his lips parted – and Arthur leaned forward and slowly kissed him on the mouth. Just a soft, tender kiss, an encouraging kiss.

He felt Lovino tense in his arms, but then relax; felt his arms come up to hold him, felt his lips begin to respond briefly. Lovino then drew back and said, "Arthur—not – not here in public?"

But he was smiling in wonder.

"All right," Arthur murmured with a smile, letting go of him and brushing the hair off his face. "Not in public."

They started to walk back towards the car. "Um."

"What now?"

"Uh…want to go back to my place?" Lovino turned away and ran his hand through his hair.

Arthur burst into loud, happy peals of laughter. "Whatever you want, Lovino. I'll go wherever you want me to go."

"Cheh. Bastard. Come on." He grabbed Arthur's hand and they ran back to the car together, laughing.

…

_Half the reason I started this story was so I could put this scene at that spot and use "Garden of Earthly Delights" for the chapter title. I hope you feel it was worth the wait. _


	40. Luxury, Calm and Desire

**Luxury, Calm, and Desire.** (Henri Matisse, oil on canvas, 1904)

"I wish you'd drive once in a while." Lovino pulled into his driveway.

"I can't drive! I don't have an American driver's license. Nor yet a car, git."

"Well, you need to get one. A license, I mean. I'm tired of driving all the time." They went into his townhouse. "I don't care if you want to drive my cars; that's fine, but…dammit."

"I actually have been thinking about that," Arthur admitted, throwing his coat on a chair. It slid off and fell onto the floor.

"Bastard! Do _not_ try to turn my nice house into some fucking messy replica of yours!" Lovino scooped up the coat and hung it in the closet next to his own. "Anyway…you've been thinking about what?"

"Sorry about the coat," Arthur said, but he was grinning. "Learning to drive a motorcycle."

"You _ride_ a motorcycle. You don't _drive_ it."

"Whatever. Getting a license to operate a motorcycle."

"Why? I mean, why a motorcycle? Because of mine?"

"Well, sort of. I…er, well, yes, I really liked riding it, but also, I…liked holding you that way, and I thought if I got a motorcycle, you would have to hold me that way, and…" He laughed a little. "Pretty bloody transparent, I know."

But Lovino wouldn't look at him. "You should do it. I – would like to ride with you on a motorcycle. Plus you – you'd look really good in black leather." He blushed.

"Wow. You've been thinking all kinds of things, haven't you?" Arthur flopped down on the couch. "Come and sit."

"Are you kidding?" Lovino sat next to him. "Ever since I saw you in that damn tuxedo –"

"Huh. So you're saying I only look good when I'm dressed up? Git. You saw me _half-naked_ before that, when we were setting up the gallery! Maybe I need to start working out?" He poked himself experimentally in the stomach a few times.

Lovino sank his head all the way down onto his knees. "Just – forget I said anything, all right? I'm feeling – I don't know, kind of stupid and naïve right now. Don't make it worse."

"Are you – do you want to change your mind? About – us?" Arthur sounded very concerned. "I don't want you to feel stupid and naïve…or any other kind of negative way…so…"

Lovino took some deep breaths. "Thanks." He got back up and started pacing. "I…don't want to change my mind, but, dammit, I really do feel very nervous about this."

Arthur stayed put. "Well, you don't have to be nervous around me. I'm not going to attack you or anything." He grinned, but Lovino wasn't looking at him. "Not unless you ask me to."

His friend snorted. "Bastard. But…I do appreciate – argh, dammit, I feel so fucking _clinical_, talking about this!"

"Well, don't talk about it. Sit down. Do you want me to leave you alone for a little while?"

"No, no, no. Just…yes, I'm going to sit down." He strode boldly over to the couch and sat. Not too close to Arthur, but not as far as he would have done before. His friend reached over and took his hand, but looked around the room instead of focusing on him. For which Lovino was quite grateful.

Yes. He _did_ want…to be with Arthur. That was _exactly _what he wanted. To feel safe, to share, to hold him, and – and kiss him – and – But it was all so strange and new. Lovino took some more deep breaths and fell back against the cushions; now he understood how Feli could date the potato bastard and be so comfortable with it. Though he still hated that macho –

"Where would you like to go for our first date?" Arthur asked.

This topic was innocuous enough that Lovino felt he could discuss it without stress. "I don't know! Where would you like to go?"

They both thought about this. Arthur began to stroke his thumb soothingly over the back of Lovino's hand, which was, yes, soothing, but also damn distracting. "I have no idea," the blond finally confessed.

A comfortable silence fell, as they continued to try to find a suitable venue for a first date. Then Arthur began laughing.

"What are you laughing about?" Lovino poked him in the arm.

"Ever been to a strip joint?" he asked, still laughing really loudly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"No, look. You know that guy Feliks? That Gilbert is dating?"

"You're worrying me, bastard. A lot."

Arthur was still laughing as he explained about Feliks' alter ego. "Apparently he's really beautiful when he's in drag. We should go see him."

"Chigi! Absolutely not." Lovino even let go of his friend's hand, he was so disturbed about this.

But Arthur leaned over and caught him in a big bear hug. "Don't. Don't be cranky. I was mostly just kidding. I thought it would be funny, because Gilbert would think we were there to make trouble for him. I owe him some trouble."

Lovino thought about this as he allowed himself to relax in Arthur's arms. "I still don't really want to do it, though."

"That's fine. We'll think of something. Don't worry about it."

This actually felt very good, with Arthur holding him so securely. Except – "Hey, let go of me."

Arthur's reaction was almost comical as he dropped his arms and scooted backwards a bit. "Er. Sorry."

But Lovino smiled at him. "I just wanted to get a little closer to you." He moved closer to Arthur, who breathed a sigh of relief and put an arm around Lovino's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me," he muttered.

"Huh. We both need to relax." He leaned back.

"I know." Arthur turned and spoke against Lovino's hair. "I just want you to be comfortable, and I'm afraid I'm going too fast for you. But I –"

Lovino took his free hand and began playing with his fingers hesitantly, exploring them, feeling the touch of Arthur's skin, flexing the joints. "Just hold me. For now."

So Arthur did.

"We're a couple of idiots," Lovino said, after a while, lacing his fingers with Arthur's.

"Why? What?"

"We should go to the – the diner, for our first – date. Shouldn't we?"

"Lovino, you are not an idiot, you're brilliant. Yes." Arthur lifted his friend's hand and kissed his fingers, and Lovino felt a warm rush go through him. He uncurled his fingers and felt very bold as he combed them through Arthur's messy hair.

"Why's your hair always such a fucking mess, anyway?"

Arthur started playing with Lovino's hair in response. "Why's yours always so bloody perfect?" He leaned forward and gave Lovino another very delicate, sweet kiss, drawing back afterwards to look at him.

All this sweet kissing was beginning to drive Lovino mad. "Will you kiss me some more, bastard? Properly?" He felt himself blushing furiously, but reached his arms up around his friend's neck.

Arthur did exactly as requested, starting with more soft kisses, wrapping his arms around Lovino to pull him close. His lips were warm and encouraging; he was very careful and attentive to his shy friend as they began to explore each other this way.

And very soon, Lovino discovered that there was not so much to be nervous about, after all.

…


	41. Composition:  Flowers

**Composition: Flowers.** (Odilon Redon, oil on panel, date unknown)

Lovino poked Arthur as they walked to the car to go on their first date that night. "I never knew it could be so much fun to kiss a guy."

"Hah. I'm glad you think so. I was afraid it would be too – I don't know, too pushy to make out with you so soon? But…I've been wanting to do it for a really long time."

Lovino gave him a look and started the engine. "Just how long?"

"A long time, all right? Shut it!"

"Whatever you say." He smirked.

Arthur's voice dropped. "If you ever want to – you know, if you ever want more, let me know."

Lovino turned red and ran his hand over his face. Another minute passed, and he said, "Thanks," reaching out to clasp Arthur's hand where it rested on the center console. "It's definitely going to take some getting used to."

"Whatever you need, Lovino." Arthur lifted his hand and kissed it. "You're the boss." He grinned; Lovino pushed him away. "Ow. Git."

"Bastard."

…

"Hello?" Arthur waved his hand in Lovino's dazed face. "Are you going to eat, or are you going to sit there daydreaming all night?" They were at the diner. "Some first date this is turning out to be." He drank some tea.

"Shut up. I'm just – just reminiscing, all right? Let me wallow in memories for a minute."

"We're supposed to be making new memories."

"Cheh, yes, all right. Hey, listen. I don't know if I ever told you this, but my house in Rome sold, and I need to go back and deal with all the stuff in it. Will you come help? I can combine it with my quarterly trip in March."

Arthur was taken aback. "What about the gallery?"

"Hell, we can just close it for a while."

Arthur fidgeted; those words of Gilbert's about being a "kept man" were coming back to haunt him again. "I – don't like that idea," he finally managed.

"What? Why not? I thought you liked Rome. I – thought you'd like to be with me…"

"Well, I would! Of course I would. But…"

"Is this about the money again?"

"Sort of." He didn't really know how to explain it.

"Just say it."

Arthur tried to explain: how everything he had now was because of Lovino's generosity – his job, the income from his paintings – and he was feeling like a leech again.

"Tell me this. If you were still working here at the diner, and we were going out, would you go to Italy if I wanted to take you?"

"Bloody hell, of course I would. Well…maybe." He thought about this. "Maybe once_._ I don't want to be like a kept man," he muttered. He knew that would anger Lovino, no matter how open and honest they were supposedly going to be with each other. At best, it would embarrass him.

But no. Lovino started laughing. "That may be the single funniest thing you've ever said to me. Ever. We'd have to be – uh – you know, first, for you to be a kept man." He turned red and looked away, but continued laughing.

Arthur was still mighty embarrassed. Maybe even more so. "That still doesn't solve the problem!"

"Cheh, yes, I know. Hey, what day is it?" Lovino suddenly asked.

"It's still Monday!"

"No, stupid, I meant, what's the date?"

"Oh. January 23rd." Hmm…Valentine's Day was approaching...

"Huh. Too soon."

"What are you talking about?"

"When Ms. Taylor told me she was resigning, I considered selling the gallery."

"I'm bloody glad you didn't!"

"Yeah, me too, idiot. Anyway, I decided I'd sell it in a year, if it didn't work out well."

"But it did work out well."

"Yeah, but I could still sell it. Then you wouldn't have to worry about skipping out on your job to be a – ha ha – kept man." He started laughing again.

"Are you some kind of moron? Then I'd be out of a job!"

Lovino sobered immediately. "Oh. Right."

Now it was Arthur's turn to laugh. "I realize you're probably – er – distracted by all the stuff that's happened today, but be serious. I can't live off my art income yet."

His friend got a distant look in his eye.

"What now? Cooking up some other bizarre scheme?"

"Maybe. Let me think about it." He smiled at Arthur. "I may actually have a good idea. But anyway, about this trip to Italy, you don't want to go?"

"Don't say it like that. I'd love to go, especially because I don't like the idea of us being – being apart." He blushed. "But I really don't think it's right for me just to abandon my work responsibilities just to go playing around in Rome with you."

"Ha ha. I just realized you're dating the boss. Isn't there some kind of law against that?"

"Well, if there is, it goes double for you. Dating your employee counts as sexual harassment, doesn't it?"

Lovino poked him. "Shut up."

"Whatever you say, boss."

…

They spent almost two hours lingering at the diner, growing more accustomed to their new relationship. For dessert Lovino insisted they get lemon cheesecake. He felt just a little embarrassed, until Arthur agreed. They got one piece, and shared it; both of them were feeling a little goofy and sentimental by this point.

"Bastard," Lovino sighed happily.

"Wanker." Arthur fed him some cheesecake, and they smirked at each other.

…

"What should we do now?" Lovino pulled out of the diner parking lot. It was really rather late.

"Don't take this the wrong way –"

"What now?"

"I think you should drop me off at home and you should go home."

"What? Why?" Lovino turned to look at Arthur. Dammit.

"You – you've had a very, a very different kind of day today. Some very new things happened for you today, and I think you should take some time to get used to all that." Arthur looked out the window. "Without me around. That's all. We can be together tomorrow after work, or whatever. You know I'm not going anywhere." He turned back to Lovino.

"That's – actually very considerate of you, bastard."

"I'm a bloody considerate bastard, what can I say?"

So Lovino laughed and took him home.

In the parking lot, Arthur leaned over to give him a goodbye kiss.

Several minutes later he began to complain about the center console.

"Just go inside, dammit. I'll come down to the gallery tomorrow afternoon, all right?"

"Sure. I'm – really happy about today, Lovino. _Really_ happy." He squeezed Lovino's hand.

"Yeah, me too." He leaned further forward to kiss Arthur again. "Hey, do you mind if I tell Feli about this? I could send him an email, I guess. It's too late to call him tonight."

"Mm. No, I don't mind at all. Tell him I said hi. I'll see you tomorrow."

"One more kiss?" Lovino pleaded.

"Wish I'd known you were a kissaholic," Arthur murmured against his mouth. "I need to get some lip balm!"

"Shut up and go in," Lovino laughed, pushing him away. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Good night." Arthur gave him a sweet smile, but he did finally get out of the car.

"Good night, Arthur." He gave his friend a sweet smile, too. Dammit. What a fucking awesome day.


	42. Polestar and the Constellation of

**Polestar and the Constellation of the Dragon.** (Hans Schmithals, pastel with gold on paper, 1902)

Arthur was nervous.

Well, yes, he was. He had to admit it to himself. He hadn't been this nervous on a date since…well…in a very long time. He couldn't even remember whether he'd ever been this nervous before. Not even on his very first date ever. Which was moderately stupid, really; it wasn't as if he needed to win Lovino over…

He had invited him to come over at eight o'clock. Arthur had actually cleaned his entire apartment, including the workroom, including _vacuuming_ and _dusting_. (He'd had to borrow a vacuum from his next-door neighbor.) The table was set for a nice meal. Not trusting his own cooking skills in the least, he'd phoned a notable Italian restaurant to order an assortment of dishes for takeout and bought a bottle of champagne.

Why was he nervous? Because he and Lovino had spent all afternoon together at the gallery and Lovino hadn't seemed to realize it was a special day. Maybe they didn't celebrate Valentine's Day in Italy? But surely he would have known from all the bloody marketing campaigns going on around here. It seemed you couldn't pass a street corner without some git shoving a bunch of roses in your face, for one thing.

Oh! The roses. He got them out of the refrigerator and arranged them in the new vase he'd bought this afternoon. He'd gotten white ones; they looked a little more elegant, to him, than red roses.

He'd even put new sheets on his bed, although he didn't really plan to go that far yet. Lovino obviously wasn't ready for it; he was still skittish about kissing, every once in a while_._ Arthur was going to be very, very careful about that sort of thing, until he was quite sure his friend was ready to take that step.

And he was wearing his tuxedo. On the one hand he felt bloody stupid about this, because Lovino was sure to show up in casual wear. On the other hand, he did know that Lovino liked the way he looked in it. Ah, what the hell! He should just settle down. It was only seven-thirty, but he was tempted to open the champagne and have some, just to calm his nerves.

Blast. He hoped this wasn't going to be too sappy for Lovino to deal with, but it had been a really long time since Arthur had been in a good relationship over Valentine's Day. He'd felt like indulging his romantic side this year.

…

When the doorbell rang, Arthur (who had successfully resisted the lure of the champagne) walked to the door to answer it (and now successfully resisted the temptation to look at Lovino through the peephole). He opened the door in one fast movement, keeping his eyes to the ground. He knew he was blushing like an imbecile and he felt like a git in his tux.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Lovino asked with warmth.

"Yes, yes, please come in. Sorry." He looked up, surprised to find a bouquet of white roses being extended to him. "Oh!" He took the roses and stepped back to allow his friend entrance.

Lovino came further in, closing the front door and removing his gloves and his black cashmere overcoat. Arthur, taking the coat to hang up, gave him a sweet, astonished smile when he realized that Lovino was also wearing his tuxedo. "_Oh!_"

"Is that all you're going to say tonight, bastard?"

"But – you –" Arthur blushed.

"Cheh. You must really think I'm some kind of oblivious idiot." Lovino poked him and then squeezed his hand.

"Er –"

"Don't even answer that. Thanks for inviting me over." He looked around the clean apartment. "Wow. I never knew there was _carpet_ in here!"

"Wanker." Arthur finally got his brain together, kissed Lovino's cheek, and took the roses over to the vase. "You're the best."

"I know." He looked around. "This place actually looks livable, now. Are you going to try to keep it clean?"

"I'm always _trying_ to keep it clean, but…it never stays clean."

Lovino sniffed the air. "And you've been cooking? That worries me; you always say you can't cook."

"No, I didn't cook. I got some takeout from a fancy Italian place."

Lovino sniffed again. "Smells good. If it's good stuff, we'll have to go there sometime for dinner."

"Fine with me. You know I'm happy no matter where we go." He finished arranging the roses. "Would you like some champagne?"

"Delighted." Lovino swept into a bow.

While Arthur was uncorking and pouring the champagne, he considered this. "I wouldn't have believed you were such a romantic."

"Normally I'm not, but then, normally I'm not as – as secure in a relationship," Lovino admitted, blushing, and taking the glass from his friend. They toasted each other before drinking.

"I hope this is all right. I'm sure you're used to much fancier champagne."

"I don't drink it much. Haven't had much to celebrate." He sipped it. "But I like it. Maybe we should start drinking it more often."

"We'll have to come up with a lot of things to celebrate, then," Arthur pointed out with a smirk.

"Hmm, oh, yes, I can think of plenty of excuses."

"Come into the workroom," Arthur then said, ignoring this opening. Lovino raised his eyebrows, but did so.

When they were standing by the work area, Arthur said "Surrealism for you," and gestured to a painting propped on the easel.

Modern art was so much less stressful for him, since it could be so freeform. During his sick time, he'd dreamed of a very large prawn on a blue plate, with a ring of tiny alarmed waiters standing around staring at it. He'd painted this, choosing to make Feliciano and Ludwig two of the tiny waiters, and added a ring of bay leaves to the plate. Off to the side, he'd then added an even tinier Arthur and Lovino sitting at a restaurant table with knives and forks in their hands, eying the giant prawn with apprehension.

"This is hilarious! Is that us?" Lovino put his glasses on and bent down to peer at the seated figures.

"Yes!" Arthur frowned, because Lovino was still using the nerdy glasses.

"This is really what you dreamt about?"

"Mostly. You and I weren't in the dream."

"Can I buy it?"

"You can _have_ it. That was so weird to dream about, and…equally weird to paint."

"Thanks. I'll hang it in my kitchen." They both laughed. "Can I take it tonight? Is it dry?"

"Of course it is. I wouldn't have been able to get it framed if it were still wet, git."

"Whatever." Lovino went back into the living room, putting his glasses away. "When do we eat? Looking at that giant prawn made me even hungrier than I was," he laughed. "I didn't eat lunch today because I knew you had something up your sleeve."

"I'm so transparent," Arthur moaned theatrically.

"Shut up and feed me."

"Yes, all right, wanker. Sit down, I'll serve the meal. You're lucky. There are prawns on the menu tonight."

…

"There's something I've been wondering about," Arthur said, as they began to eat. "I haven't paid much attention to the areas around here, as far as quality of living. I like my apartment; I leased it, plunked myself down, and didn't think much about looking elsewhere. But where are the best places to live around here? In the District or out of it? I know you must rate Alexandria pretty highly, since you live there."

"There are a lot of places around that are nice. Generally a lot of places in Northern Virginia are pretty nice, but there are some questionable areas there too. Thinking of moving?"

"Not really. Too lazy, I guess, but…it's something to think about. Plus, where I live now is pretty convenient to everything." He thought about this. "But if I could live anywhere in the world, I would probably choose the country, and not a city."

"Really? But you lived in London, right, and now in Washington." Lovino sipped some champagne.

"Because it makes sense for my art, and to earn a living. Not much for that, out in the countryside."

His friend thought about this for a while. "You could probably do it, eventually. If you were making enough money off your paintings."

"Ah, well, whatever. I don't _dislike_ the city. I just have this, I don't know, this idealized image of living in the country? You know. Roaming around a big isolated property with a couple of dogs, getting snowed in once in a while so I wouldn't have to go to work…that kind of thing. It's probably bloody unrealistic."

"I wouldn't know. We had a country house for a while, but rarely ever went there, and usually only in summer. So I don't really know much about country life."

"Well, it makes a nice daydream."

Lovino agreed. The two of them focused on the meal.

"You're a pretty private guy," Arthur eventually said.

"Uh – yeah?"

"What I mean is that the, er, oh, never mind." He was quite red and couldn't meet his friend's eyes.

"No, no, you have to talk now. What?"

Arthur considered how best to say this. "A lot of – of wealthy people are often in the newspapers and media. But you're not. I'm glad of that, because I know you'd hate it, but it makes me wonder how you manage to avoid that."

"Bastard." Lovino's voice was affectionate; he smiled at his friend. "You're right, though. My stepfather was in the news a lot, but he was the head of a big conglomerate, so there was a lot more newsworthy stuff about him. I'm pretty low-key, and also, I've only been living in America for about four years, so I'm not that well-known over here."

"Did you have this kind of problem when you still lived in Italy?" Arthur figured he might as well keep asking, as long as Lovino was willing to talk.

"No. My stepfather had a personal assistant whose job it was to keep the media out of our hair. She worked really hard to make sure our family life stayed private."

"A personal assistant? You mean like a private secretary?" Here was another aspect of being wealthy that Arthur had never considered.

"I suppose that's the best way to describe it. She did all the home administration stuff, like making our travel plans, hiring new servants, whatever. But I always hated having a stranger be so involved with our lives, so I never had a personal assistant myself. It's been pretty easy for me to handle it, since I've only got to worry about my own needs."

"Well, that's good. That you can get by without one, I mean."

"Yeah." Lovino seemed pensive.

"Anyway, sorry I interrupted. I was just wondering how you managed to stay out of the limelight."

"I live a pretty boring life, you know. The media's not much interested in me."

"That's good, though, right?" Arthur smiled at him.

"Yeah, it's all good."

…

After dinner was over (and it was indeed delicious) they took off their tux jackets to relax a little; Lovino made Arthur hang them up properly. They sat on the floor and played Scrabble, and had a very fun, argumentative time with it. Lovino won. He seemed very surprised by this.

Arthur then turned the lights off; they sat on the couch, snuggled together, looking out the big windows at the city lights. "Happy Valentine's Day," he murmured in Lovino's ear.

"Mm, same to you." Lovino turned and began kissing him. As always, Arthur had to work to keep himself from going too far, but right now he was feeling more romantic than aroused, and it didn't seem too hard to deal with. "You really are the sweetest person I've ever dated," Lovino went on. "It – it makes me want to protect you." He fluffed up Arthur's hair.

Arthur hugged him tightly. "Oh. From what? My big bad boss? Ha ha."

"Bastard." Lovino poked him and rubbed his hand over his face. Then: "Shut up," although Arthur hadn't spoken further. "Forget I said anything."

"Fine, nervous wanker. May I ask you something?"

"Ask what you like. If I don't want to answer it, I won't."

"Fair enough." He traced the place where he knew the dragon tattoo was. "I know about this one…and I know about this one." He trailed his hand across the back of Lovino's shirt. "And this." His fingers lightly touched the koi through the shirt. "Will you let me – examine them?"

"What the hell do you mean, _examine_ them?"

"Well, every time I've seen them, I've been – well, I was trying not to stare. You know, in the pool and all that?" He bit his lip, distracted again. "But I wanted to look at the designs more closely."

Lovino thought about this. "So you just want me to take my shirt off? Cheh, sure, whatever." But he got a bit red. "But – uh –"

"What? If you're uncomfortable, don't worry about it." Arthur stroked his arm.

"No…uh…just – Will you take your shirt off too?" Lovino finally said in a low voice, looking away. "I didn't like to stare, either."

"Yes, I will." Arthur sat up and removed his own shirt and tie first, and then reached over to help Lovino out of his. "May I turn on the lights, so I can see better?"

"Sure, just close the curtains first."

After he'd done that, Arthur came back and sat down again. "Let me see the one on your back."

Lovino obediently laid face-down on the sofa, turning his head to face his friend. Arthur knelt on the floor next to him and lightly traced the intricate design with his fingertips. "This must have taken forever. It's breathtaking."

"It did take a long time. I got that one when I was in college, and the tattoo place was right near the school, so I just went every couple of days and had a little more done." Lovino fidgeted a bit. "That feels really good, the way you're – you're touching it." He blushed and squeezed his eyes shut. Arthur, smiling, leaned forward and kissed the center of the design a few times, stroking Lovino's back lightly.

Drawing back, he then demanded, "Now let me see those saucy little koi." Lovino rolled over slowly; his face was flushed. He didn't say anything, just watched.

Arthur ran his fingers over the design. He spared a moment to tickle his fingers lightly and slowly in Lovino's navel, and his friend twitched a bit, laughing, sliding a hand into Arthur's hair. "No tickling, bastard, please."

"No fun," Arthur murmured, but he bent his head and kissed his way around the fish design, satisfying that long-repressed desire.

Lovino let out a tiny moan and his eyes drifted shut. "Arthur – please –"

"Please keep going? Or please stop?" Arthur stopped while he waited for the answer.

"Uh. Please stop…for now?" Lovino looked away. "I'm sorry I can't – can't relax about this more," he began, but Arthur moved up to kiss him softly.

"Do _not_ worry about it. I told you. You set the pace. I just – you're so bloody hot, it's hard for me to keep my hands off you," he admitted, rubbing his palm soothingly over the koi.

"I'm working on it, believe me. I – It'll happen someday, but…dammit."

"That's fine. Do you want to put your shirt back on?"

"Nh…not yet…I didn't get to look at you much." Lovino sat up on the couch and beckoned Arthur onto the seat next to him. He turned in place and ran his palms over Arthur's bare chest and arms. "Uh…very nice. Your – your skin is so cool to the touch…"

Arthur reached out to hold him close. He could feel Lovino's heartbeat, the satin of his skin beneath his hands, and drew back. "Tell me about them."

"About what?"

"Your tattoos! When did you get them done, and why? And – and you have others, too don't you?"

"Turn off the lights again. But yes. Two others. Uh. One is – kind of girly."

"What is it? Hello Kitty?" Arthur, snickering, got up to turn the lights off and open the curtains again. When he came back, Lovino still hadn't answered him, so he started tickling the koi again.

"Stop that and I'll tell you."

"Fine. Tell." He stopped.

"It's a – a heart, with a wreath of thorns around it."

"Doesn't sound too girly, but…why'd you get that one? If it's so girly."

"Cheh. I was dating the tattoo artist. She swore it was sexy."

"Is it?"

Lovino burst out laughing. "I don't know! It's been about ten years since I got it; I don't even think about it much anymore."

"Don't you ever look at it? Where the hell is it?"

Lovino grinned at him, almost maliciously. "Not going to tell you yet."

"Git. Someday I'll find it."

Lovino didn't deny that.

"What's the other one, then?"

"A skull with a dagger through it, with a snake coiled around the dagger."

"Wow. That sounds very hardcore."

"I was in a hardcore kind of place when I had it done. Mentally, I mean. Bad breakup."

Arthur stroked the dark hair. "I hope it doesn't still bother you."

Lovino snorted. "Yeah, I'm sitting here on Valentine's Day, in the dark, half-naked, making out with one of my older male employees, but I'm still stressing over a six-year-old failed relationship. You're an idiot."

"Shut it."

"You really are an idiot."

Arthur ignored this. "Where is it, then? The skull, I mean."

"Just above my ankle. I don't look there, much, either."

"May I see?"

Lovino bent his knee and pulled up the leg of his pants. "Right there."

The blond bent down and examined it, even though the room was mostly dark again. He kissed it once, and then came back up to kiss his friend some more. "I definitely want to get one now. I feel so – _vanilla_ next to you."

"I'll go with you, if you like. If you think it would help calm you, or whatever."

"Thanks. I've been doodling some designs. When I come up with one I really want, I'll let you know."

Lovino looked at him in amazement. "How stupid I am."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I never thought of asking you to design a tattoo! That's brilliant. Will you do one for me? That way nobody else will ever have one like it." He grinned.

"Where the hell will you get it done, git? You're covered in designs already!"

"I – uh – I can think of a couple more places."

"Mm, so can I," Arthur purred, sliding his hand across Lovino's chest, leaning over to kiss him some more. But then – "Wait a minute! You were _dating the tattoo artist?_"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that? I've dated a lot of people!"

"But – ten years ago you were only sixteen!"

"What can I say? She wanted me. I was hot."

"Ha. _That_ hasn't changed. Bloody hell, I feel really inadequate, now."

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't even go on a date until I was twenty!"

Lovino laughed at him a little. "You poor deprived bastard. Don't worry. I'll make it up to you." He reached towards Arthur again.

"I'm counting on it."

…

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he murmured, later.

"Uh…"

"Just to sleep? Well, maybe to make out a little more?" He grinned. "I would very much like to know you could be comfortable with me all night – and in a proper bed, not on the floor in front of a fireplace." They both laughed a little, remembering that.

"Yes, I'll stay," Lovino decided. "It'd be fun to wake up next to you, too. I'll take you out for breakfast before we go to work tomorrow."

"Er – you'll have to go to breakfast in your tux!"

"Dammit. No, I'll drive us both to my place, so I can get changed, and then we'll go out."

"Fine, wanker, whatever works for you."

The two of them stayed on the couch for a long time, cuddling close and talking of this and that, until they began to get sleepy, and then adjourned to the bed, finishing their undressing in the dark.

"Uh –"

"Are you having second thoughts?" Arthur was concerned. "I don't –"

"No, I…was just wondering whether you're a – a violent sleeper, or not."

"You mean do I thrash around a lot in my sleep? I have no idea." Arthur thought about this. "I guess not." No one had ever mentioned this to him.

"Cheh, well, I am. If I kick you in the middle of the night, don't wake me up to complain, all right?" By now Lovino was down to his boxers and had slipped in between the sheets. "At least your bed is pretty big."

"I'm a pretty heavy sleeper. You could probably kick me and I wouldn't even notice."

"Huh, I know you snore, bastard, so if you snore too much, I'm liable to kick."

"Fine. Whatever. If I wake up black and blue tomorrow, I know who to blame."

Lovino's voice was soft, in the dark, and Arthur felt his hand on his arm. "Bastard. I promise I won't kick you." They shared a few light kisses.

"I can't make any promises about snoring."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Yes, boss." Arthur rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around his warm friend. "This was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

"Likewise, you sweet, romantic bastard. Good night."


	43. Kullervo's Curse

**Kullervo's Curse.** (Akseli Gallen-Kallela, oil on canvas, 1899)

Arthur was being coy about something and Lovino was most emphatically not happy.

Three Saturdays in a row, Arthur had pleaded a prior engagement. He wouldn't tell Lovino what it was, although he had assured him it was nothing to worry about, and that he'd have his cell phone with him if his friend needed to be in touch. Just a little self-improvement project, something he had to do alone.

At first Lovino had considered it might be painting lessons, or something like that.

But he picked Arthur up at the metro stop every Saturday after these jaunts, and there was never any sign of paint on him. He was always dressed in neat casual clothes, and he never had anything with him other than his wallet and jacket.

The second week, Lovino had thought perhaps he was looking for a new place to live. That disturbed him on several levels. But surely Arthur wouldn't have scheduled three Saturdays in a row, the same time block each week, to do this?

And here it was at the end of the third week; the only other thing he could think of was that Arthur might have been getting a tattoo. He really hoped that wasn't the case. Weren't they going to do that together?

Lovino and his E-type were waiting outside the metro station; he'd gotten out of the car and was leaning on the hood. Arthur had promised to spill the beans today and, dammit, Lovino was going to make sure his friend understood just how infuriating he'd been.

Arthur came out of the station grinning so widely it looked like he was going to bite someone. "World's sexiest chauffeur," he laughed. Well, at least he wasn't trying to kiss him in public.

He scowled at the blond. "Are you ready to clear up this mystery for me, dammit?"

"Indeed I am," Arthur replied, grinning even more maniacally. He consulted a business card and read out an address in northern Virginia. "Would you be kind enough to drive me to that address?"

"You're driving me nuts."

"Just deal with it, all right? Come on. This is a really good surprise."

"It's not a restaurant, is it? It's too early for dinner."

"No, it is not a restaurant. Let's go."

"Cheh, fine, whatever. Get in the car."

They got in the car. Arthur was humming in a very self-satisfied way.

"Mysterious bastard! You're driving me insane." But Lovino couldn't help smiling at his friend's infectious manner.

"I forgot my checkbook. Damn."

"What do you need your checkbook for?"

"I told you, you'll see! Just drive."

Lovino drove.

When they approached the correct address he started looking around for a clue, but all he could see was a dealership and shopping mall. "What? Where am I supposed to be going?"

"Oh, just pull in at the motorcycle garage. Let me make sure I've got the right address." But Arthur completely failed to keep the self-satisfied smirk off his face.

"What? You're going to buy a motorcycle?"

"Well…yes. I've been learning to ride, and today I got my license."

Lovino broke into a very big, _very_ surprised, grin as well. "Congratulations! That's great, Arthur. That's – that's great." Since they were in the parking lot, and he didn't need to worry about traffic, he dared to lean over and give his friend a little peck on the cheek. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I really wanted to surprise you. Did I?"

"You have no idea. I was going crazy trying to figure out what all this was about."

"Don't go crazy." Arthur took his hand where it was resting on the center console. "Trust me."

"I will, I do…you know that."

Arthur turned to look out of the window. "Look at all of these! I can't wait to pick one out."

"But – you – where will you park it?"

Arthur explained about his parking space allotment.

Lovino grew thoughtful. Hmm. If he could prevent Arthur buying a motorcycle today, he could bring the Ducati over, and Arthur could use it. And, maybe he could use it as an inducement to get him to go to Italy with him. Hmm…

"You have a very evil look on your face. What are you plotting?"

"Oh, nothing," he said artificially, waving his hand. "Let's get out and look."

…

Huh. He hadn't even had to try any of his persuasive tactics. Arthur hadn't liked any of these motorcycles. Perfect. "Ah, let's just leave and go get some dinner; it's getting late."

Arthur shrugged. "Might as well."

When they got in the car he scowled. "I was so excited! Now I'm really let down. I can't believe there were no models that I liked."

"Well – what exactly are you looking for?" Lovino fought to keep the fake tone out of his voice.

"I want one like yours! It has…er…"

"Sentimental value for you, right?"

Arthur laughed at himself. "Yes."

"Don't worry about it. I have an idea. We can talk about it over dinner."

…

"So, talk."

"All right, listen. You know I sold the house in Rome." Lovino drank some coffee while they waited for their meals.

"Yes, git, you told me."

"Well, I'm looking forward to getting that out of my hair. But you know I'll need to go back and deal with all the personal possessions. We talked about that already."

"Er." Arthur began fiddling with his cutlery. This nervous habit had always made Lovino laugh inside, ever since their first dinner together at Morton's.

"Yes, _er._ I really do want you to go with me. Will you?"

Arthur started to talk and Lovino interrupted. "Listen. Shut up. Stop with the panic reactions about being a kept man, and _think_. I could use your help. There's a shitload of stuff to deal with over there. Furniture, repairs, stuff like that. And it will probably take me at least a month to get through it all. I – I don't want to be away from you for a month." He blushed, just a little, and Arthur smiled at him. "And then, if I have to do it all alone, it will take _longer_ than a month. So, what I'm thinking is that…if this makes it easier for you to consider…think of it this way. You're my employee already, right?"

Arthur nodded.

"So, let's just consider that I'm going to hire you, or whatever, to help me with the house, instead of the gallery, for a little while?" He hoped this explanation would work. "I'll continue to pay you your salary, but you'll just be doing a little bit different work? But you _will_ be working, make no mistake."

His friend thought about this. Lovino could almost see the gears turning in his mind. "Two questions."

"Shoot."

"Will you let me pay my own airfare?"

"Only if you're going to fly first class. It'd be stupid to have you in coach and me in first class, and I refuse to fly coach, I just won't. But, you know, since this is a business trip for you, I can cover that. You can save your money." Arthur started to look irritated, so Lovino hastily revised that. "But, yes, _whatever_. If that's what it takes to get you to come with me, then fly coach, whatever. What's the other question?"

"Will you let me buy your motorcycle?" Arthur gave him a pleading smile.

"Bastard. I was going to _give_ it to you." He grinned. He actually hadn't planned to give it to his friend – he'd just been thinking of bringing it over and letting him use it – but what the hell. They'd be using it together, regardless, right?

"You're joking."

"No! Why would I be joking? You can ride it now, with your new license, and it's not doing anything over there…might as well."

"Well, thanks! That's really nice of you!"

Now Lovino was seriously confused. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"How come you'll so graciously accept a motorcycle, but you're still freaking out about the airfare?"

"Wanker. Because you already own the motorcycle. You're not going out and spending your money on a _new_ motorcycle!" Arthur drank some tea.

"Dammit. Maybe I'll just buy the airline," Lovino muttered darkly, and Arthur choked on his tea.

"Fine," he managed after swallowing. "I agree to everything. You can pay for me to fly first class and I'll go to Rome with you do whatever work you need me to do and graciously accept your motorcycle and whatever else you want. On one condition."

"Now what?"

"Do _not_ buy the sodding airline!" Arthur burst out laughing and Lovino joined him. Ah, he was glad it had all worked out.

"Good, then, I'll make some travel arrangements. Bring your bathing suit," he grinned. He grinned even more when Arthur turned red.

Then Lovino felt himself blushing, and Arthur laughed at him. "What a couple of idiots we are."

"I'm forced to agree, bastard. But…at least we can be idiots together, right?"

"I never knew you could be so – so –"

"Sappy?" Lovino drank some coffee and smirked.

"Sweet!" Arthur laughed. "But that reminds me. There's something I want to talk to you about, but…not here. When we get back to my place."

"Mysterious bastard."

"Not really. Just wanted to ask something about your youth. Whatever. Not here!"

"All right. Not here."

…

"Will you lie down with me?" Arthur asked him.

"Seriously? Sure. That sounds kind of cozy. Plus then I don't have to look at this messy apartment very much."

"Wanker."

"What happened, though? It was so clean on Valentine's Day, and that was only a couple weeks ago!"

"I tell you all the time, I always do my best, but…I have better things to do with my time now." He grinned.

"Dammit, I know you do."

Arthur lay on the couch and Lovino settled in on top of him. "Thanks for agreeing to go with me, bastard."

"You know I really wanted to. I just don't want you spending all your money on me."

"Hey, I have the money; I might as well spend it."

"I know you keep saying that, but…"

"Listen, don't worry about it now. Ask me whatever about my youth you wanted to ask." Lovino leaned in and began kissing him, running his fingers through the messy hair.

"Can't ask if you've got my mouth occupied."

"Uh. Forgot." Lovino laughed at himself a little and drew back. "I never had so much fun kissing anyone before."

This statement distracted Arthur quite a bit. "It's a good thing we have nothing better to do tonight," he eventually murmured.

"Are you going to ask me this question or what?"

"Are you feeling comfortable? Relaxed?"

"Comfortable, yes. Relaxed, ha, well, not so much!"

"Maybe we should stop."

"Bastard. Ask."

"This is turning into a rather big production," the blond sighed. "But, yes, I'll ask. Do you remember when we were at your house for Christmas?"

Obviously this question was rhetorical. Lovino ignored it and continued to slide his fingers through Arthur's hair. He was surprised by how much he liked doing _this_, too. He was also surprised that all this finger-combing never made it any neater.

"I told you that it scared me when you got angry."

"Yes, and I wondered what you were scared of." He looked Arthur in the eye.

"But you said you'd been like that all your life – that you 'had to be.' Why did you feel you had to be? It's very distressing to think of you being so cold and defensive all your life."

Lovino stroked his hair some more. "You have the kindest heart of anybody I ever met."

"Because I care about you so much, wanker." Arthur poked him.

"I have to defend myself," Lovino admitted. "I have to stay angry to keep myself safe."

"Safe from what? Er – I'm sorry. If I – my questions are too intrusive –"

"No, they're not. They're sensible questions. You wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean?" Arthur was affronted. "Don't be stupid; try me."

"I didn't mean it that way. I meant that your lifestyle was different from mine. You wouldn't understand what it's like, growing up as the son of a rich man. Everyone was always sucking up to me, sometimes my stepfather's business cronies, who wanted to curry favor, sometimes people trying to date me – date me, because I had money…" His voice drifted off. "Every time – _every time_ I thought it was going to work out, it turned out my friends or girlfriends or whatever, were after me for the money." He sighed and tightened his arm around Arthur. "That's why I care for Feli so much, and trust him. He was my friend before all that happened. I know he cares about me for my own self."

Arthur didn't speak; his gaze slid to the side.

"What's the matter with you, bastard?"

Oh.

"I'm sorry. I know you're not like that either; I didn't mean to imply that you were."

Arthur looked back; his luminous green eyes were troubled. "I wouldn't be with you if you were," Lovino assured him.

"Did you ever think that I was?" Arthur asked quietly.

Lovino gave this serious consideration. "Well, no. I _worried _that you might be – of course I did – but you never were. I was especially worried when we first got to my house in Rome. I was so nervous to have you see that place, to have you realize how elaborate my estate was…"

Arthur hugged him. "Gilbert kept telling me I should try – try to date you, and be a kept man, but I couldn't stand that idea. I always wanted to be with you…ever since that day from the painting…but." He looked up at Lovino and they smiled at each other. "Remember you said you wanted to chuck it all and be a hermit?"

Lovino nodded. "I still would, too, if I could take you with me," he admitted.

"I'd do it! If you got rid of everything, all the money, whatever…I'm just happy being with you, and I'm glad that you can be, er, not-angry, when we're together."

"Arthur, you are the absolute best." Lovino snuggled up closer and rested his head on his shoulder. "Let's not talk about this shit anymore. Let's just be happy together."

"Agreed!" Arthur held him close, protectively. "There was something else I wanted to ask you about, though."

"Now what?"

"You – you told me you were a Pisces. Doesn't that mean you have a birthday soon?"

"Had it. A couple weeks ago."

"You _git!_ Why didn't you tell me? Damn it." Arthur pushed him away. "I would have done something nice for you. _Damn."_

"I know you would, stupid; that's why I didn't tell you. I don't like having a fuss made over me. Besides, you gave me that beautiful Valentine's day dinner."

"Mm, yes, that was bloody good, wasn't it," Arthur mused. "Still."

"Cheh, well, whatever; it's over now, too late for you to do anything about it."

"Heh heh. Want to bet?"

"Chigi! Come on, just drop it. Please?"

"Yes, all right, you complete git. Bloody hell."

…

"Hey," Lovino said, a little later; they were still nestled together on the couch, somewhat drowsy in the dark.

"Hey, what?"

"Pack your tuxedo for the trip, all right?"

"Why? What are you planning?"

"What I think we should do is weed out all the artworks I'm going to keep – or the ones I want to give to museums – and then if there are a lot left, host a dinner for some top gallery owners and dealers in Europe, so they can walk through, see things, and buy them. Do you think you could handle that?"

"I could – but could you? I know you hate that kind of thing."

"Cheh. It'll be the last one I have to do, over there, and it will be less stressful because they'll all want to get their paws on that stuff once they know it's from my private collection. So it shouldn't be a problem. But thanks for worrying about me. And I – I also had another idea, but I'm not sure you'd want to do this."

"What is it? I'm pretty flexible."

"Well…I thought that we could take, or ship, some of your paintings over with us. I'll hang them in the house, and then when we have this dealer dinner, we can see if any of the dealers want to buy them? Then your work will be all over Europe, too, not just in Washington?"

Arthur kissed him softly. "You're pretty good to me, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know that, stupid. Do you want to do it?"

"Of course I do. Though I admit it will be a bit nerve-wracking. What if nobody wants them?"

"Then we can just bring them back and sell them here."

"I suppose. Yes, let's. Er – would you mind if I took the diner painting as one of them?"

Lovino thought about this. "Did you ever change the glasses?"

"No." He could hear the laughter in Arthur's voice, even here in the dark.

"Then yes. It will be very fun to think of some collector having that particular painting hanging in his home someday! So, pick out, maybe, three; again, we don't want to make them too easily available. Yes, pick out three. We can ship them by UPS instead of freight carrier, so they get there in time, and if they're not framed we can get that done in Rome. All right?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Arthur said, pulling him closer. "Now, enough of all this business talk…"

…

_Please ignore any real-world requirement for Arthur to have a green card and all that. Lovino would certainly have taken care of that once Arthur came to work at the gallery, but Arthur would have had to go through a lot of administrative faff or risk of deportation with a simple job like being a busboy. It's quite unlikely that the diner owners would have sponsored his resident alien application._

_Of course Lovino, with his money, would have easily been able to obtain resident alien status when he first came to America. He's not taking jobs from Americans – in fact he created more, at the gallery and possibly at the publishing house – so there wouldn't have been any need for sponsorship._

_Also, the title painting has nothing to do with anything, except that I like it._


	44. Love Zone

**Love Zone.** (Robert Rauschenberg, lithograph, 1968)

Lovino was feeling extremely liberated. Upon their arrival in Rome he'd dismissed all the servants and paid them their bonuses, and he and Arthur were now living in the mansion all alone. They spent the mornings deciding what to do with the various objects, the afternoons arranging for the disposition of those Lovino wouldn't be keeping, or packing and organizing freight shipments back to Washington for those he did want. Some small repairs to the house still needed to be made; they set these in motion, too. Since Arthur didn't speak Italian, Lovino had to make all the local phone calls himself, but he didn't even mind. It was actually kind of fun.

Some evenings they took the Ducati, or one of Lovino's cars, to go out; some nights they just lazed around and got take-out. Feliciano was scheduled to visit over the weekend, and they were both looking forward to spending time in his company. They were having a lot of fun, and getting a lot of work done, too.

It was also very good to know they were alone in the house, so that if either of them had a sudden urge to start acting – uh – romantic, no servants could catch them in the act.

They were sharing Lovino's room, this time. It had been a little awkward on the first night – he had still been very edgy about the idea of any, any sexual stuff with another man, even though kissing Arthur did get him quite aroused. He knew he was not being fair to his friend, denying him satisfaction, but Arthur assured him that it was all right. After that first difficult evening they'd managed to settle into a routine that only involved cuddling and love talk, nothing too sexy, when they were in the bed together.

He really hoped Arthur was not regretting this relationship because of something like that.

This afternoon they were relaxing in front of the parlor fire again, even though it was really too warm for a fire in late April. Lovino felt very thankful for his friend's help with all the house projects, and said so.

"Mm…I'm glad you feel that way. I want to do everything I can to make you happy and less stressed."

"I know. You do." He reached out and fluffed up the blond hair.

Arthur bent to kiss him, and licked his tongue lightly along Lovino's lips; the brunet grinned before joining his tongue with his friend's. He slid his hands up Arthur's sides, under his shirt, tickling him a little. They spent several delicious moments tasting and touching one another, and then –

"Ow." Arthur raised a hand to his forehead.

"What's the matter? Too intense for you?" Lovino laughed and poked him.

"I'm starting to get a headache. Bollocks. This room is too hot."

"I knew we shouldn't have made a fire. Well, I've got some medicine around here somewhere. Let me get you some, and you can go lie down in bed? It will be cooler. Open a window if you need to; I'll damp the fire down."

"Yes, that sounds good. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Want me to come up when I'm done with the fire?" They got up and went into the kitchen to look for the medicine.

"Eh, I'll probably just end up falling asleep, so I don't really mind if you want to stay out here."

"Okay. Maybe I'll get some work done. Here." He handed Arthur the pills. "Take them and go rest up."

"Righto."

Lovino watched him walk away. He hoped the cooler, darker bedroom would make Arthur's headache go away soon. He went back into the parlor and banked the fire.

He wanted to check his emails, but the laptop was in the bedroom. Ah, he'd give Arthur some time to fall asleep and then go get it. Lovino puttered around the downstairs for a while, not really settling to anything, and in about ten minutes he decided he really needed the laptop and that it would be better to get it now; this way Arthur wouldn't be disturbed while he was asleep.

Outside the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, he heard Arthur moaning. Was the pain really that bad? He peeked into the room. From where he stood, he could see his friend reflected in the big mirror.

Oh.

Arthur was not moaning in pain. He was lying naked on the bed, and he was quite obviously satisfying himself. Fascinated, Lovino stood outside the door, spying, feeling his own desire growing. He absently slipped his hand down the front of his jeans, quite surprised at how turned on he was. And then he admitted to himself how stupid it was for each of them to be furtively trying to deal with this alone, when they could be sharing, together. He _was_ ready for this – he now understood that he'd been ready for quite some time. He watched and waited until Arthur finished, arching his back and breathing out Lovino's name (which startled and aroused him even further).

When he saw that Arthur had finished cleaning himself up, he made his next move. Still in the hallway, Lovino took off all his clothes. Red-faced, he opened the bedroom door and walked right up to the side of the bed. "Won't you let me play, too?" he asked shyly, at first not able to meet Arthur's eyes.

Arthur didn't say anything at first, and when Lovino finally did look, he was staring up at him with a mixture of desire and joy. "Oh, yes, please," he breathed. "If you're really sure?"

"I – I – well, yes, I'm really sure." Lovino slipped onto the bed. Arthur hastily kicked the covers aside and pulled him up into a warm embrace. Yes. Lovino was sure, and he wanted to be very, very good for his friend. It felt extraordinary to be lying nestled against him, completely naked. Delicious_. _"Teach me what you like?"

"Oh, yes. Let me – let me make you feel good first…tell me what you like, and I'll do it…and then - ?"

"Yes," Lovino agreed, bringing his mouth to Arthur's. Oh, this felt so right…

But Arthur broke away from the kiss. "Let me see that girly tattoo first? Please? It's been driving me crazy!"

Lovino moved off him to lie back on the bed. He spread his legs apart a little, pointing to the inside of his upper thigh. He felt a little self-conscious as Arthur bent to look at it, running his fingertips over it before coming back up to smile at his friend.

"She was right."

"_What?_"

"The tattoo artist. It is really sexy!"

"Ha." He snorted with relief.

Arthur smiled eagerly at his friend. "Whatever you want, all right, Lovino? Just boss me around all you want. I'll be very careful with you."

"Just – just, whatever you like to do. I'll try to help you too. Show me – teach me."

"Yes." Arthur sank into his embrace, holding him, kissing him much more ardently than usual. Lovino arched into him, savoring his touch, his warmth, growing accustomed to the nearness and the tactile delight of skin on skin.

The two of them explored each other all through the rest of that day and night, teaching, learning each other's desires, in the bed, on the starlit deck, even on the kitchen countertop. They tried it sweet, they tried it rough; later, they tried it dreamy and then again playful. Arthur was a fun, patient, and sexy guide; Lovino a very hungry student. Once again he was passionately glad that he'd let Arthur into his life.

Near morning, both completely exhausted, they lay down on the parlor sofa under a blanket. "I'll never look at this sofa the same way again," Arthur groaned as he lay down. "You're bloody amazing_._"

Lovino settled in on top of him and pulled up the blanket. "You're pretty awesome yourself, you know." He kissed his friend lightly on the cheek. "Let's take this sofa back home with us."

"Mm, yes."

"Uh - can I ask you something?"

"Ask."

"Did you really have a headache?"

Arthur laughed and laughed, kissing Lovino again. "No." He finally closed his eyes, still smiling, and they fell asleep, wrapped safely in each other's arms.

When the sun came up the next morning, shining on Arthur's messy blond hair, Lovino felt a rush of affection followed by strong desire. Yes, he was sore, and he suspected Arthur was too, but…dammit. It was completely worth it. "Hey, wake up, bastard. Want to play some more?"

"Of course I do. Come here."

They didn't get very much work done that day.


	45. Henri II de Lorraine, duc de Guise

**Henri II de Lorraine, duc de Guise. **(Sir Anthony van Dyck, oil on canvas, 1634)

At about three-thirty Arthur pushed Lovino's greedy mouth away from his ear and rolled over in bed to check the clock. "Damn. Aren't you hungry yet? We haven't eaten all day!" he groaned.

"I can't even think about food. Come back here."

"Sex fiend."

"Hey, I can't help it! Look at you, you sexy bastard. Dammit." Lovino began running his hands over Arthur's arm, somewhat lackadaisically trying to pull him closer.

"Stop, git. I'm trying to think of something."

"Oh, I'm thinking of plenty for both of us, loverboy. Get over here."

"Shut it; I'm serious. Isn't there something we're supposed to be doing today?"

"Not really. Not other than the usual. I mean, Feliciano's not coming until Friday, and—_dammit!" _he yelled, just as Arthur sank face-first into the pillow. "All right, get up, get dressed, whatever! Hurry!"

Arthur hopped off the bed and looked in the mirror. Bollocks, he looked like he'd been put through the wringer. But…he also looked mighty content. He allowed himself to smile smugly at his reflection, stretching lazily, then trying to fix his hair. "When's he supposed to get here?"

"Five o'clock!" Lovino got up and headed for the shower.

"Well, we have plenty of time, then, right?"

"Argh. Not if he gets here early. Ordinarily the butler would just let him in and get him a drink. Just – just hurry up."

"So, what, then? You want me to play butler now?"

"Never mind! I really have to take a shower."

"May I join you?" Arthur asked, still checking himself out in the mirror, still grinning.

"Vain bastard. No. If you get in the shower with me, we'll never get out." Lovino slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, which made Arthur laugh.

Well, he didn't feel too bad. He'd wash up a little in one of the other bathrooms and get dressed, in case Feliciano really was early and Lovino was still busy getting ready. He could come shower after Lovino was done, if he really needed to.

He sort of didn't want to wash away the memories. Yesterday, last night, today – it had been extraordinary, initiating Lovino; once his friend had decided to take that step, he'd been so willing, so responsive, so bloody _hot…_Arthur, reminiscing, started to get carried away again, but forced himself to focus. He washed himself up and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt before running downstairs to the parlor to wait.

…

When Lovino came downstairs, Arthur was asleep on the sofa. "Hey, wake up." He sat down and poked him in the side. Arthur didn't react.

"Heh heh." Lovino leaned over, beginning to lightly lick and nibble his friend's ear, stroking up and down between his legs. "Wake up, snoozy bastard; I have a _treat_ for you…"

Arthur moaned a little in his sleep and shifted on the seat. Lovino redoubled his assault and then the doorbell rang. "Dammit!"

"Ow! Ow, why are you yelling in my ear?" Arthur frowned at him, but it quickly changed to a smile as he looked at Lovino. "Ah, bollocks, you're so hot, come kiss me. I was having a _great_ dream."

But Lovino was already halfway to the front door. "I know you were. I could hear you moaning! Feli's here. The doorbell just rang."

When he opened the door, Feliciano jumped at him for his usual hug attack. "Hi, Lovi!"

He grabbed and held Feli very tightly in response. Lovino knew this was somewhat unusual for him, but what the fuck; he felt great, and he didn't want his friend to worry about him anymore. He actually laughed a little.

When he let go, Feli's eyes were sparkling. "Ve, Lovino, you are in a very good mood!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Come on in." He took the obligatory bottle of wine from his friend and led him into the parlor, where Arthur was laying back on the sofa again. "Wake up! Feli's here," he laughed, poking him in the knee with the wine bottle.

"I'm not asleep!" Arthur opened his eyes, yawning, and stood up to greet Feliciano. "Hi. How are you?"

But Feliciano pulled him into a hug as well. "Arthur, it's _so good_ to see you again! I'm so happy for you both." He drew back and beamed at them. "I really am, ve. Lovi has been so calm and happy whenever he talks to me. I know that's all thanks to you."

Both Arthur and Lovino blushed. "Stop it, please," Lovino said. But he said it nicely. Arthur just sat back down on the couch with a tired smile.

"Ve, all right. Whatever you say." Feli flopped down on the couch next to Arthur. "How is everything going? A lot of stuff has been packed up already, hasn't it?"

"Some of it's packed, but nothing's gone yet. Is there anything else _you_ want to take, idiot?" Lovino got him a drink and sat on Feliciano's other side.

"You know I'm not going to clean you out, Lovi. But…there was something I wanted to ask you about."

"Sure, what?"

"Your mamma had a picture painted of you, remember? With the dog? I forgot about that one before, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting rid of it. If you were going to give it away, I want it."

Lovino turned red and Arthur started laughing. "Don't worry about that one," Arthur said. "We took it back to Washington after Christmas and it hangs in the gallery. Where I can look at it every day," he said softly.

"Stop that," Lovino laughed, still red. "But yeah. That stupid painting's not going anywhere." He rubbed his hand over his face sheepishly. "Anything else?"

Feliciano was looking at him with a wondering expression. "Not a single thing, ve. Do you need more help?"

"Cheh, we're managing."

"Well, that's good. My parents want to know if the two of you will come over for dinner one night."

"I'd love to," Arthur said. "I've been practicing a little Italian but not really enough to converse with all of you yet."

"Bastard! When have you been doing that?"

"Oh, at home." Arthur looked a little embarrassed. "When – when we're not together. It's just from language CDs. I listen to them while I paint."

"Ve~," Feliciano said quietly, looking at Lovino.

"How is Ludwig?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, just fine. We really have nothing new to report; we've been talking about moving in together, but it's just talk, at this point. Ludwig is a neat freak like you, Lovi, and he's afraid I'll be too much of a slob!" Feliciano laughed merrily and the other two joined him.

"Are you coming to see us this summer?" Lovino then demanded.

"Yes, I will. I've been saving up my vacation. Now, you know, I wanted to talk to you about this, ve. I know you don't have a very big house over there. And…I would really like to bring Ludwig with me. But I know you wouldn't want him to be staying at your house with us. Is it all right if he comes with me and we stay in a hotel?" Feliciano looked at Lovino with pleading eyes.

Lovino looked at his old friend fondly. "Of course, idiot. I'll find a good place for you."

Feli hugged him. "Thanks, Lovi. I knew you'd understand."

"Well, are we going to make dinner, or what? I haven't eaten all day," Lovino pointed out, and then felt himself reddening. Dammit. Arthur, he could see, was fighting a smirk, but Feli didn't seem to notice.

"Ve, yes, do you have anything to cook, or do we need to go out and get things?"

"There's not much here," Arthur pointed out. "We've been going out or getting takeaway every night."

"Well, then let's go to the store! Come on." Feli stood up and grabbed their hands. "We can get enough things to last through the whole weekend."

"Sure, let's go, bastards."

…

The three friends had fun making dinner. "I didn't even know you could cook, git," Arthur said absently as he set the table.

Feliciano turned an alarmed face towards his friend, but when Lovino ignored the "git" he just shrugged.

"I love to cook, bastard, but it's kind of pointless to do all this just for me."

"Some friend you are!" Arthur laughed, looking up. "You could cook for both of us, you know. You know I can't cook worth a damn. I've been eating cereal and takeaway for the last _two years_!"

"Shut up." Lovino focused on putting the food onto plates. "I'm not cooking in your stupid messy kitchen, dammit."

"Wanker. What about _your_ kitchen?"

Lovino ignored this and brought the plates to the table.

Feliciano was getting rather worried by all this, but his friends just carried on with the dinner preparations. Ve, this was weird. He wondered if they talked to each other like this a lot. Maybe it was therapeutic for them? He certainly couldn't expect Lovino to magically change into a sweetheart overnight. If ever. He giggled a little and poured the wine. "Everything's ready, ve, let's eat!"

He watched them carefully as they all sat and ate in the big dining room. And as the meal progressed, Feli saw that there was nothing at all to worry about. They were comfortable with each other, and that was all that really mattered. He sighed happily and let himself daydream about Ludwig for a while.


	46. San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk

**San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk.** (Claude Monet, oil on canvas, 1908)

"Why are you wearing pajamas to bed?" Lovino looked at his friend in confusion.

"Well, for one thing, I'm bloody _exhausted,_ and I thought you were too, so I didn't think we'd be – er – experimenting much tonight. And for another thing, if there's some reason I have to leave the room, I don't want to be wandering around naked with Feliciano in the house!"

"Huh, good point." Lovino got out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. "I am pretty tired, I have to admit. But I also have to admit today's been an awesome day." He stretched before getting back into the bed.

"Come here and let me hold you."

Lovino did as bidden, lying on his side next to him.

"I had an idea," Arthur went on, stroking his back softly. "About their trip to Washington."

His friend sighed and shook his head in dismay. "I can't believe he wants to bring the potato bastard."

"Why not? If they – you know. They don't want to be apart, just like we didn't."

Lovino smiled and began kissing Arthur.

Arthur pushed him away gently. "No, stop, wait and listen to my idea first."

"Yes, all right. Tell me your idea." He snuggled up closer while he listened.

"I thought – if you wouldn't mind – you could come and stay at my place, and they could stay at your place, so they wouldn't have to be in a hotel the whole time?" He looked nervously at Lovino. He was more nervous about the suggestion of Lovino staying at his apartment than he was about the idea of Ludwig having free rein at Lovino's townhouse.

"What's wrong with a hotel?"

"Oh. Don't tell me you own some hotel in Washington, too?"

"No, stupid, I told you. The hotel here, the gallery, and the race car firm."

"_Race car firm_? You never told me about _that!_ Tell! You know I love sexy cars." He poked Lovino in the chest a few times.

They got sidetracked from the Ludwig discussion while Lovino told him about it. "In fact I need to get over there while we're on this trip. Want to go with me?"

"Bloody hell, yes, of course I do. I've never seen cars being built before." They got sidetracked from the race car discussion while Arthur attacked him for some excited kissing.

"Stop it, dammit, let's finish all these discussions first!"

Arthur reluctantly stopped. "Well, the only thing left to discuss is whether you'd want to stay at my place while they visit."

Lovino snorted. "In that mess? But also, I have to decide about whether I want them roaming around my house for two weeks. It's a thoughtful offer, though. Let me think about it."

"All right."

"Are we done with all these discussions?"

"Yes, wanker! Good night."

"Oh, it will be a good night," Lovino grinned, moving closer and kissing him leisurely.

"Mm," Arthur eventually murmured. "I'm not as tired as I thought."

"Me neither. Get those pajamas off."


	47. People at Night, Guided by the

**People at Night, Guided by the Phosphorescent Tracks of Snails.** (Joan Miró, watercolor and gouache on paper, 1940)

Tuesday night, in Lovino's Ferrari, on the way back home from his race car firm. Feliciano's visit last weekend had gone well, with no stress for anyone; they'd confirmed the dates that he and Ludwig would be visiting. Lovino still hadn't made up his mind about staying with Arthur, but that wasn't a rush.

It had been fascinating today to see the cars in the process of being built, and to learn about the history of the company, founded by Lovino's grandfather back in the 1940s. When Arthur had learned the price of one car, he'd nearly fainted, but had forced himself not to act so provincial. "I still don't see how we could have been friends for so long and you didn't tell me you owned a car company," he now grumbled.

"Don't let it get to you, all right? I – well, for a long time you know I didn't want to talk about this stuff with you, or with anybody. It's not like I was trying to keep some big secret from you."

"Yes, all right." Arthur was still a little cranky. He felt like he hadn't quite caught up on his sleep yet. Which was manifestly true. It's not that he wanted to stop – er – what he and Lovino did at night, but, bloody hell, he could really use more than three hours of sleep a night!

But he wasn't planning to complain. At this point he was merely hoping Lovino had had enough sleep to focus on driving.

They'd estimated only one more week or so required on the trip. Most of the details had been taken care of; those artworks being donated to museums had already been shipped out. Arthur had enjoyed dealing with the museum administrators for that. Lovino's artworks would be housed in museums all over the world, eventually. That was exciting to think of. He wondered whether he'd ever see them again, and made up his mind that if he ever got near any of those museums, he'd go look.

This Saturday, they'd scheduled the dinner and sale for the art dealers. Lovino had bribed his house staff to come back for that – his cook in particular was quite excited, because Lovino never hosted large dinner parties. After that, shippers would begin arriving to pick up and crate the items traveling back to Washington, including the motorcycle and the parlor sofa. Arthur had done most of the packing, since Lovino had had to do all the phone work. Otherwise everything was pretty well taken care of.

"Want to go swimming when we get back?"

"I want to go to sleep."

"You're serious?"

"Don't you ever get tired, git?" he burst out. "I'm bloody exhausted_._ I just want to go to sleep for about a week!"

"Well – all right," Lovino conceded. "We can go to sleep if you want."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to. Since you still have all this energy."

"You shouldn't have said that. Now I'm feeling tired." Lovino yawned.

So did Arthur. "Don't crash the car."

"I won't! Look, we're only five minutes away. Let's just go home and sleep, all right?"

"Yes, please."

…

Arthur slept until noon the next day and awoke, unsurprisingly, in an otherwise-empty bed. He stretched, got up and completed his morning routine, then headed downstairs. He was really hungry, but otherwise felt great. "Hello? Lovino?"

Eventually he found him asleep on the parlor sofa. Arthur shrugged and went into the kitchen for something to eat.

"You're the snooziest bastard in the world," he heard behind him as he made coffee.

"Where did you go?" was Arthur's response. He yawned and stretched again before turning to look at his friend. "If you were still so sleepy."

"I wasn't! I got up around eight, no problem, but I got bored waiting for you to wake up, so…I fell asleep. But I hung up your paintings while I was puttering around."

"I'm a little nervous. It's one thing for me to show my paintings to my considerate boyfriend, but quite something else to have a house full of experienced art dealers looking at them."

Lovino blushed, but pointed out that he hadn't yet been Arthur's boyfriend – considerate or otherwise – when he'd first seen the paintings.

"True, but…I know you really wanted to be," Arthur teased.

"Shut up about that." Lovino punched him in the arm and laughed.

"All right." He poured them each a cup of coffee.

"Seriously, snoozy, are you going to be all right for the dinner?"

"Why, are you planning to keep me awake until then? Today's only Wednesday!"

"Bastard. You know what I meant."

"Yes, I'll be fine. Let me sleep late on Saturday and I won't have a problem."

"Uh. That reminds me."

"You want me to sleep in the guest room."

Lovino stared at him. "How the hell did you know that's what I was going to say?"

"Because the bloody servants are all coming back! I – well, I have to admit, I was going to ask about it anyway. I didn't want you feeling uncomfortable about it."

Lovino set his mug down and hugged Arthur tightly. "You – well –"

"Yeah. You too." Arthur hugged him back as best he could with a full coffee mug in one hand.

…

"Ready for this?" Lovino looked at Arthur as he straightened his bowtie. "Dammit, you look so good in that tux."

"I want to paint a formal portrait of you," Arthur remembered, turning to appraise his friend. "Yes, I'm ready. How much longer until they get here?"

"Half hour, more or less. Come on down."

That morning, with the help of the butler and Lovino's groundskeeper, they'd shifted all the remaining artworks to the main level of the house, so the guests wouldn't need to traipse around upstairs. Six guests were coming: from Switzerland, Spain, France, Denmark, Austria, and Greece. Feliciano and Ludwig would be attending as well, to provide social support. Arthur was only slightly worried about that. Lovino had had plenty of notice this time; in fact, it had been his idea to invite those two. Arthur was certain that Feliciano would work to keep things harmonious and he knew that he would too.

"Just don't call him 'potato bastard' in front of the guests!"

"Cheh, you must think I'm stupid."

"I think you have a temper, and you're forgetful. That's what I think."

Lovino considered this. "You're right, but…don't worry. I can handle it."

Feliciano and Ludwig arrived, looking quite elegant as well. The four of them shared a quiet half hour in the parlor before the dealers were due to arrive. Arthur was relieved to see that Lovino was maintaining his temper without much of a problem. Apparently Feliciano noticed it too; he gave Arthur a surreptitious wink.

They had once again agreed not to display Arthur's name on his artworks, although as before, a label was on the back of each, indicating its provenance. They hadn't even told Feli and Ludwig about those paintings. They both wanted the evening to go smoothly, and not have anyone pestering Arthur with questions. He was also slightly worried that if people linked his name with those paintings, they might not give them the same consideration, perhaps believing that Lovino was displaying them merely to help out a friend. He hadn't mentioned this anxiety to Lovino, though.

Soon the guests began arriving, and eventually everyone was milling around the downstairs with a drink in hand. Lovino introduced Arthur as his associate, the manager of his Washington gallery; Arthur was flattered by the respect paid to him by the other guests. They were all merry and excited at the thought of the new things on offer tonight. Much of the time was spent talking about art trends in the United States and Europe.

Arthur was surprised at how informed and conversant Ludwig was. He hadn't formed any great opinion of him during their previous interaction on Christmas Eve, but now saw that he'd done the tall blond a disservice. Ludwig had a fairly extensive (if somewhat clinical) knowledge of modern art and discoursed easily with the guests as they appraised the works on display.

After the meal the guests began walking the halls in earnest, talking about the artworks and sometimes wrangling over a particularly important piece. All the sculptures were spoken for within minutes. Arthur saw Feliciano draw Lovino aside and whisper something urgent to him, which worried him, but he was in conversation with the Danish dealer and could not get away. Feliciano and Lovino walked out of the room towards the library. Arthur became quite agitated, hoping nothing was wrong.

By the time the spiky-haired Dane had turned away to browse further, they had still not returned. Arthur headed in that direction, but just as he entered the hallway, both his friends reappeared with big smiles on their faces. "What's going on?" he asked Lovino, _sotto voce_.

"I'll tell you later. Nothing bad at all."

Arthur shrugged and wandered off again.

…

Eventually the dealers began to congregate in the parlor again. Since Lovino or his stepfather had dealt with all of them before, he was happy to accept business checks for the purchases tonight. Ludwig, Feliciano and Arthur helped pack certain precious items into visitors' cars; the remainder of the artworks would be shipped out on Monday and Tuesday.

It was past midnight by the time the Austrian, the last guest, had left, cradling a small sculpture that he had been coveting all evening. As the butler shut the door behind him, Feliciano collapsed on the parlor sofa. "Ve! What a successful night!"

"Yes. Thank you all for your help. We did better tonight than I'd anticipated," Lovino pointed out, pleased. He sat next to Feli on the sofa; Arthur and Ludwig were still standing.

"Er – did everything sell?" Arthur asked.

"Just about."

"Er."

"What the hell's the matter with you? Oh," Lovino realized. "Yes. Everything that you are concerned about has been sold." He grinned.

"Ve, yes," Feliciano agreed. "I happen to know that your American Diner painting is going to a good home."

"Who – who bought it?" Arthur asked breathlessly.

"I did, ve!"

"You bought it?"

"It's beautiful! Lovi looks so cute, in his dopey glasses. When I found out you had painted it, I knew I had to have it." He beamed.

"Shut up, dammit." Lovino jabbed him with an elbow.

Ludwig finally got a word in edgewise. "What are all of you talking about?"

Feliciano explained.

"Where is this painting?" Ludwig then asked.

"In the library, ve. Come on, let's go see." All four of them went into the library and looked at Arthur's painting. As a joke, Lovino had hung it right where the not-a-Gainsborough had formerly hung; Arthur laughed when he saw that.

"You painted this?" Ludwig asked.

"Don't sound so shocked; it's a great painting," Lovino snapped.

"That wasn't what I meant. I think it is very well executed."

Lovino snorted, but Arthur just thanked him politely.

"Ve, I want you to take us to that diner when we come to Washington."

"I don't mind at all," Arthur said. "They do make the best desserts in the District."

"I know," Lovino replied absently.

The friends stayed up for a little while, discussing the evening, but then Feliciano and Ludwig decided they should be going. With many effusive thanks they departed, promising to touch base soon about the summer trip.

"Dammit," Lovino laughed, resting against the closed door. "Thank God that's all over."

"I agree. I'm glad it was so successful for you."

"Hah. Me too."

"Will you come sit with me? I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Something important? What's the problem?" Lovino sat next to Arthur on the sofa – but not too near; there were still servants in the house.

"I – It's about my painting."

"What about it? Feli loved it. I'm kind of glad he bought it. At least none of the other guests seemed to realize that was me."

"Feli bought it?"

"Yes, bastard! I just told you that. What are you driving at? Stop beating around the bush."

"I would have given it to him for nothing, you know, but…who actually paid the money for it?"

"He did! What are you talking about?"

Arthur took a deep breath. "I thought maybe you were buying it for him."

"So what if I did?" He hadn't, but this was kind of bizarre. "Why would it be a problem for me to give a gift to my friend?"

"Because it would. Look, if all the money I make from my paintings is coming out of your pocket, then – I'm not going to paint anymore. I can't stand this idea that you're – you're subsidizing me this way. It's not fair to you and it's certainly not fair to me as an artist." He looked over at the cold fireplace.

"How is it unfair to you?" Arthur gave him a look, but Lovino genuinely didn't understand. "Bastard – Arthur." Lovino took his hand, not even giving a damn if the servants saw. His friend was troubled_._ And it seemed to be Lovino's fault, somehow, but he couldn't figure this out. "Please explain it to me. I really don't understand, and I don't want to do things to hurt you; you know that."

"I know that you want to support me in my work. I know that you say that my paintings are good. But if you're really the only one buying them, and giving them away, then I have no way of knowing if they really are good, or if you're just trying to spare my feelings! I want to know what other people think, too; it will help me understand what I need to work on." Arthur paused and squeezed his friend's hand. "And I also don't want you spending all your money on my artwork."

"One of these days we're going to have to have a serious talk about money," Lovino sighed, "but that's not the issue here, I know. Listen, four of your works sold to complete strangers at our gallery reception, and the other two of yours sold here tonight too. And – and Feli really did want that painting. He wanted it, and he paid me for it; he paid the price you were asking, out of his own pocket. People do like your things, Arthur. You – you have a vision that appeals to people. Fuck, I don't know what to call it. You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Thank you for saying that." Arthur let go of his hand and put his head all the way down on his knees.

"Because it's true, you idiot. I wouldn't say this kind of shit just to make you feel better."

Arthur laughed. "It must be true, then." He turned his head and looked at Lovino. "Thank you. Thanks for saying it, and for meaning it."

"You have nothing at all to worry about," Lovino repeated, hugging him. "Come on, let's go up to bed. I don't want to sit around down here anymore."

"Wh–what about the servants?"

"Screw the servants. It's my house and I want to be with you. Uh – if that's all right with you?" Lovino hadn't considered that.

"It's all right with me. Come on." Arthur stood up and held his hand out. Lovino took it, and they went upstairs, together.

…

_A weird painting with an awesome title. _


	48. Fallen Angel

**Fallen Angel.** (Alexandre Cabanel, oil on canvas, 1858)

After returning from Italy, they slid back into their daily routine, Arthur at the gallery, Lovino there more often than not. The two of them were now eating at the diner after a very boring, rainy Friday's work. Arthur cleared his throat. "You once said that if I – er – wanted you to sit around modeling for me, you'd do it?"

"If you seriously want me to, yeah," Lovino laughed. "I don't get it, but…if that's what you need me to do, then I'll do it. Wh-what have you got in mind, though?" He dropped his voice. "Not – not a nude painting?" He blushed and ran his hand over his face.

Arthur just grinned at him. "No. I wouldn't do that. I don't want everyone else to see that."

"Well, then, what kind of painting? What kind of posing? In my tux? You said something about that when we had the dealer night."

"Oh, I'll get around to that someday, but, no. When – when we worked together in the gallery to put all the new things up – the first time I saw your tattoos – I, er, I wanted to paint you as an angel. A fallen angel. Sort of – well – sort of modern and seductive." He didn't meet Lovino's eye.

There was a bit of a silence. They had no particular weekend plans yet. Maybe that was why Arthur was asking about this bizarre idea, just for something to do.

Still speaking in a rather low tone, Lovino asked, "How – how do you mean, 'modern and seductive'? If you didn't mean naked?" He put his head in his hands. It was bad enough that Arthur wanted him to sit around modeling, but talking about it in public was pretty weird too.

"Well, mostly that would be because of the pose, and your body art."

"But how will people – people see the body art, if I'm not – you know -?" Lovino didn't lift his head, but raised his eyes to his friend.

Arthur laughed at him. "In _trousers_, git. But without a shirt."

"Oh." Well, that was a little easier to consider. "_Trousers_?" That sounded awfully formal for a fallen angel.

"Jeans, probably. Do you have any black jeans? I know you have boots, but I can't decide if I want you barefoot or booted."

"Bastard, let's talk about this once we get in the car, all right? I feel very uncomfortable talking about it out here in the middle of this public diner!"

"Sure. Whatever makes you happy."

…

They walked into Arthur's surprisingly neat apartment. "What the hell happened?"

"I couldn't find my tube of alizarin crimson, and I had to go crawling around on the floor for it, which made me angry, so I cleaned it all up."

"If you can keep it clean, _I'll_ treat _you_ to the trip to England."

Lovino had not, in fact, lost his gloves, and before they'd gone to Italy they'd discussed the possible trip to England. But after the visit to Rome and now with the Feliciano and Ludwig trip approaching in early July, they'd decided to at least put it off until the fall, if not later in the year. Lovino also needed to go back to Rome for the sale of the house, but that would only be for a few days, so Arthur wasn't planning to join him.

"I can keep it clean, wanker."

"That's what you said on Valentine's Day."

Arthur did not rise to this.

"So, what exactly do you need me to do for this? Take my shirt off?" Lovino tried to laugh.

"We don't have to do anything tonight. I just wanted to ask you about it. Besides, you've got the wrong kind of trousers on. _Do_ you have black jeans?"

"Yes, bastard, I have black jeans."

"Good. Well, if you feel like posing tonight, I could do some preliminary sketches, but if not, we could do it tomorrow or Sunday?" Arthur shrugged.

"You know I'm free all weekend. Tell me what you want."

"Ha."

"About the _art._"

"What the hell. Let's do some preliminary work now."

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

Arthur considered this. "Hm. Well, for starters, take your clothes off."

"What?" Lovino yelped.

But Arthur was laughing. "You know what I mean."

"Well, close your stupid curtains, you idiot."

Arthur closed the silk curtains while Lovino removed his suit jacket, tie and dress shirt. "Hey, can I take my shoes and socks off?" he asked.

"Whatever, git. Take off as much as you want!" He started laughing again. Lovino blushed, but decided to up the ante, and stripped down to his black silk boxers. Arthur was still rummaging around his work area.

"Ready when you are, bastard," Lovino said, suppressing laughter.

Arthur (still not looking up) flapped a hand at him and said, "Just get comfortable. I'll be ready in a minute." He unearthed his sketchbook and some pencils and turned out of the workroom, blinking when he saw Lovino lounging on the couch in his underwear. "Er."

"Yes?" Lovino asked archly. "Is there some problem?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "No. No problem at all. Please get up and go lean against the kitchen island."

Lovino did so. He felt very shameless, striding around Arthur's apartment in nothing but his underwear, with the bright lights blazing, so he kept the little half-smirk on his face to conceal it. "How's this, bastard?" he asked, standing with his hands on his hips.

"Mm, no," Arthur considered, sounding rather artificial himself. "Dragon-arm hand on your hip, run the other hand through your hair. Except don't actually do that, just put your hand into your hair and freeze."

Lovino struck the pose. "Where do you want me looking? At you?"

"Er, no. I think it might be more effective if you're looking down at the ground. Like you're ashamed?"

"Ashamed of what?"

"Git! You're supposed to be a fallen angel. Ashamed of _falling._"

"Oh, right." Lovino dutifully looked down at the ground. "I don't feel very ashamed."

"How _do_ you feel?" Arthur asked as he began to sketch, leaning against the back of his couch. "Showoffy, I bet."

"Sort of. I feel like I'm on display."

"Well, you are. I like it." Arthur blew him a kiss.

"Bastard. Did you know you stick your tongue out when you work?"

"Really? No, I never noticed. I guess I'm just concentrating very hard. But are you comfortable? Are you too cold?" He kept sketching while he talked.

"It's all right."

"I can turn the air conditioning off?"

"I said I'm all right!" Lovino was already getting a little tired of holding this pose. "How long is this going to take, dammit?"

"Don't know yet. The more you talk, the more distracted I'll get, and the longer it will take." Arthur looked up and smiled. "But you can keep talking, feel free. I don't mind getting distracted. You really are very delicious to look at, dressed like that. Er – undressed like that."

Lovino was a little red by the time Arthur had finished that sentence. "I am feeling kind of uncomfortable."

"Do you want to sit down? Or at least put your arms down?"

"N-no, I meant, I feel uncomfortable standing around in my underwear while you're still in a suit."

"Oh. Well, we can fix that easily." Arthur set down his sketching materials and hurriedly removed all his clothing except his blue cotton boxer briefs, flinging the clothing on the couch. "How's that?" He blew Lovino another kiss.

"That – that'll do." He smirked. Maybe this posing stuff would be more fun than he'd thought. When Arthur had bent his head to his sketchbook again, Lovino tugged his own boxers down so they sat a little lower on his hips.

Arthur didn't appear to notice. He alternated between looking at Lovino's face and the sketchbook. "Oh," he noticed, "put your hand back in your hair, you took it out and I forgot about it."

Lovino sighed. "Stand up and show me what you're talking about." He tried to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Arthur set down his things and stood up. "Like this." He struck the pose he wanted Lovino to use, canting one hip slightly, tilting his head to look at the ground.

Dammit. Lovino wondered if he looked that hot when he stood that way. He stepped a little closer to Arthur. "Just like that?" he breathed.

"Yes," was his friend's equally soft response, "just – just like that." He dropped his hand from his hair and started to reach for Lovino, who pretended not to see this and turned to walk purposefully back to his posing place.

"Got it." He was really most extraordinarily proud of himself for not smiling. "Just like this." He struck the pose, but didn't put his arm up as high as Arthur had done.

"No. Raise your elbow higher." Arthur eyed him critically; Lovino tried to raise his elbow higher. "No, no. Like this." Arthur came to stand very close to him and raised his arms up to pose him correctly. Lovino could feel the warmth of Arthur's body; his lips parted and he swayed slightly forward towards his friend, but Arthur had gotten his arm into the correct position and already backed away. "Just like that. Hold that pose."

_Bastard_, Lovino thought, trying to come up with some other way to tease his friend, but he couldn't think of anything other than sticking his tongue out as if he were licking his lips, just like Arthur did when he was sketching.

"No, wait, this is still wrong," Arthur decided. "I can't see the dragon this way. Put your arm – let's see – move it so your hand is – oh, no, that won't work either; the koi will be covered up. Blast. Rest your other arm a minute."

Lovino obediently dropped his arm as Arthur paced around him, thinking. Several times he stopped in his pacing and looked at Lovino from different angles, but he didn't seem to be happy. "Ah, I've got it." He stepped closer. "Slip your hand down on the, the, I don't know what it's called. Here; this part." He came over and tried to put Lovino's hand where he wanted it, but Lovino didn't get it.

"Ow! Stop yanking on my arm. Show me what you want." He thought Arthur would pose for him to mimic, as he'd done before, but instead the blond slipped around behind him and spread out his own fingers, sliding them across the silk fabric into the join between Lovino's leg and his torso, with his thumb angled towards his navel. Uh. He was going to find it very hard to focus, if Arthur kept doing this sort of thing.

"Mm, yes, just like that," Arthur murmured, standing very close behind him, but not touching anywhere except where his hand rested. "Low enough that it won't interfere with the koi, and in far enough that your upper arm will twist, so I can see the dragon. Got it?" He slid his hand off the silk fabric and stepped back.

"Got it, bastard," Lovino managed, and put his hand into the desired position. He could still feel the warmth that Arthur's hand had left on the silk. This was damned distracting; he wondered if Arthur was trying to one-up him on the teasing.

Arthur stepped back and wandered around in front to check it. "Yes. That will do nicely. Thank you." He smiled so sweetly at Lovino that the brunet decided he couldn't have been teasing. He was just a very focused artist. That must be it.

He watched Arthur walk back to his sketching materials and lean against the back of the couch again. "Hand in your hair, please," he commanded, and Lovino obliged.

They managed to get about two minutes' worth of work done without any further teasing – or in fact any further speaking – and then Arthur's cell phone rang. "Bollocks. Take a break for a minute." He went to answer it. "Oh. It's Gilbert –?"

"Cheh, yes, answer it, dammit."

"Hello, Gilbert…no, just doing some sketching…"

While Arthur spoke to his friend, Lovino decided he'd had enough of all this subtle tease-play. He walked around behind Arthur and slipped his arms around his waist, at first just holding him closely, resting his cheek against the back of his hair.

"What's the problem with that?" Arthur continued in his normal speaking voice. Hm. Lovino obviously needed to work harder to distract him. He began kissing the back of his neck, softly, lightly, while stroking his hands in small, slow circles on Arthur's bare stomach.

"Well, no, git! If he asked_ you,_ that's a whole different situation!" _What?_ Lovino was astonished. How could Arthur not be reacting to his advances? He tried a different tactic, sliding his fingers back and forth inside his friend's waistband, licking and kissing him a little more aggressively on his shoulders, and pressing up more closely behind him.

"No, _you're_ wrong, Gilbert. That's the problem, you're too – well, no – well, then why did you even call, wanker? Yes, yes, of course. Right."

Lovino was getting really pissed off. Wasn't he sexy enough to distract Arthur? But –

"I can't talk anymore now, Gilbert. Just – I'll talk to you later, all right? Righto. Good night."

Lovino had stepped back from Arthur when it was becoming clear that he was going to hang up. Aha, now he'd turn around, and – and –

"Hello? Are you going to finish posing for me?" Arthur had crossed the room and was leaning on the back of the couch again.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. He wasn't about to give up yet. "Yes, I will." He came back and struck the pose.

"By the way, do you mind if I tell Gilbert about us? I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it."

"Uh – well, all right. Tell him whatever. Uh – no – I don't mean _tell him whatever_, you know," he clarified, blushing.

"Git. I wouldn't talk about stuff like that to anybody else. I just meant tell him we're dating."

"Uh, that's fine, I guess."

"Well, I won't tell him unless he asks, how's that."

"Fine."

Arthur kept sketching.

Lovino tried to make himself feel like a fallen angel while he watched his friend work. "You – uh – you look somewhat aroused, bastard," he said, knowing that he was being too blatant, and admitting to himself that he couldn't maintain the subtlety. But those boxer briefs were very form-fitting. He couldn't _not comment._

"I always get turned on when I'm working," Arthur laughed, without looking up. "Why do you think I like doing it so much?"

"You're serious?" This distracted Lovino from his scheming temporarily. "What do you normally do about it?"

"Ha, well, most days I just ignore it, but if it gets too – er – awkward, I just go take care of things and then come back to work some more." He still hadn't looked up. Was that a blush on his cheeks? Lovino couldn't tell.

"Can I be done with this soon? My arm is getting really tired."

Arthur looked up. "Yes, rest it. In fact, I'm going to need to do some close-up sketches of the tattoos to make sure I get them right. Come over and sit on the couch. Do you want some tea or anything?"

"Nh, no, I'm all right." In fact he was uncomfortably aroused himself, but absolutely was not going to say anything about it. Lovino was glad he was wearing loose boxers and not something more revealing.

Arthur sat next to his dragon arm and began sketching. "This one won't take long; I kind of had an idea of it from before." Within about a minute he was done with it. "But I do need to sketch those koi better."

Lovino tried to twist on the seat, to afford him a better view, but Arthur said, "No, just sit comfortably." He got off the couch, spreading Lovino's legs apart and kneeling on the floor, resting the sketch pad on Lovino's thighs. _Dammit._

Arthur nestled in between Lovino's legs and began to sketch, again sticking his tongue out a little. Lovino felt the warmth of him, the slight shifting as the pencil traced across the paper. He looked across the room, to try to take his mind off this, but it wasn't working. Dammit, he didn't care about this cruel game of teasing any more. "Bastard, stop drawing; I want you." He tried to reach down and pull Arthur closer, but his friend grinned at him and held up the sketchbook.

Instead of the koi, there was a rough little picture of the two of them kissing, with "You Win" written underneath. Lovino laughed and laughed, and pulled Arthur up to straddle his lap; they threw the sketchbook aside and played together all night long.


	49. Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance VI

**Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance VI.** (Ellsworth Kelly, paper squares and pencil on black paper, 1951)

Since Lovino was in Rome for a few days, attending to the sale of the house, Arthur closed up the gallery early and headed across town to the bank offices where Gilbert worked. He hadn't seen his friend in a long time, and that strange phone conversation two weeks ago hadn't clued him in to much. Something about traveling with Feliks, but that was about all he'd grasped. Of course, he _had_ been somewhat distracted at the time…

Arthur went to the third floor and asked the receptionist to ring his friend. When Gilbert came out, beaming as usual, they shook hands and the albino led him back to his small corner office. "Kesesese, check it out, I just got this new office! Isn't it sweet? I mean, yeah, a view of another office building isn't too cool, but at least it's got windows, sunlight. I can daydream a little. So how are you? What have you been doing?"

Arthur opted not to bring up Lovino at this time, and simply mentioned his painting and gallery work.

"So why are you here? Gallery close early? Ha, I bet the boss is in Italy again, isn't he?"

Arthur colored. "How the hell did you know that, wanker?"

"I didn't. Just took a guess. Well, sure, I'm happy to keep you company while he's gone, if that's all you've got."

"So what was all this rubbish you were talking about that night when you called? I admit I was kind of – er – distracted." Arthur tried to keep a straight face.

But Gilbert wasn't looking; he was attending to something on the computer. "Yeah, I know how you get when you're working. I remember that time you sketched me at your place; I was telling you all these dirty jokes and you didn't even crack a smile!" He typed in a few things and then turned back to his friend. "What I was trying to say is that Feliks wanted me to go to some convention with him. I wasn't quite sure about it, a whole week of, well, drag queens, and I wanted to talk to you about it. But I worked it out. I realized I need to support him, if I want us to stay together. Even if it's a little embarrassing to me. Right?"

Arthur smiled brightly at his friend. It sounded like Gilbert was growing up. "I'm proud of you, git. I'm also glad you worked it out. I'm sorry I wasn't more help."

"Nah, it's all cool; the convention is all next week in New York, so it's a good thing you caught me today."

"You and Feliks don't have plans tonight? I admit I wasn't thinking about that when I sauntered in here. I just felt like talking to you; it's been a while."

"Oh! Right! Did – did anything ever happen with, with Alfred?" Gilbert had the grace to look a little ashamed at this.

Arthur blinked. Surprisingly, he'd forgotten all about that. He considered how best to put this. On the one hand, Gilbert had been very stupid; on the other hand, everything had worked out _quite_ well, so – "Eh, yes, he came to the gallery and tried to get me to go out with him, but I told him to blow, and he did."

"And that's it? Wow."

"Wow what?"

"I'm surprised. I kind of thought you'd get back with him."

"Are you crazy? After he ran off with someone else? For _two years_?" Arthur thought perhaps his friend hadn't quite been aware of the entire situation.

"Has it really been two years? Hell, then, yeah, that's completely not awesome; I don't blame you." Gilbert checked his watch. "Hey, I didn't realize how late it was. I've got to pick up Feliks at Starbucks after work; we have to go out to Tysons to get some shopping done before we leave for the convention. Want to come with us?"

"No, thank you. Not interested in shopping. I have some things I want to work on at home." He got up when his friend did. "I just wanted to touch base with you. I hope you two have fun at the convention."

"Yeah, I'm sure we will. It'll be different, anyway. Come on; do you want a ride home?" They headed out of the bank building together.

"Yes, thanks. Hey, maybe _you_ should get some drag queen things," Arthur laughed. "You'd make a very pretty girl, with the right makeup. You'd just need to get a – er – whatever Feliks uses to, you know, conceal his – er – vital regions?"

"Kesesese! But there's no way I could conceal the awesome five meters, you know that."

Arthur snorted. "Wanker."

They made it all the way to Arthur's parking lot before Gilbert asked him about his love life. Smirking, Arthur got out of the car, blew him a kiss, and said, "I'm dating Lovino Vargas. See you later, Gilbert!"

He winked before walking away and kept laughing all the way into the lobby, listening to Gilbert's shouts of "What the fuck?" and "Damn it, Artie," waving without looking back. "I'll call you when we get back!" was the last thing he heard his friend yell before driving off.

Ah, some days he just _loved_ talking to that git.


	50. Equestrian Portrait of Charles V

**Equestrian Portrait of Charles V.** (Titian, oil on canvas, 1548)

"Ve, this is such a cute little diner! It looks _just like_ your painting, Arthur!"

Arthur smiled. He hoped the guests wouldn't find it too downmarket. He felt a little funny in a business suit while the rest of them were all in casual clothes, and was interested to see that Ludwig was sporting military fatigues. They got seated and began to peruse the menus.

The visitors had been here for a few days now – in a hotel, not at the townhouse; Lovino had ultimately decided he didn't want the potato bastard wandering around his place unsupervised. He'd spent the last few days giving them the tourist treatment while Arthur continued to work at the gallery. Tonight was the first chance he'd had to spend with any of them, Lovino included, and he had been looking forward to it. "Are you enjoying yourselves?" he asked. Primarily he'd been wondering whether Lovino could handle host duties around Ludwig.

But apparently he could. "Lovino is a most attentive host," Ludwig answered in his formal fashion. "We have been to see many sights already."

"I hope you're planning a visit to some of the museums," Arthur laughed. "There are a lot. If I thought my boss was understanding enough, I'd ask for some time off to take you around." He laughed and nudged Lovino with his elbow.

"Bastard, if you wanted the time off to come with us, why didn't you say anything? Of course I'd let you come; the gallery doesn't need to be open every day."

Arthur frowned; he'd only been joking. "It's all right," he said, trying to be nonchalant. "I've got the job, I'll keep working it."

Lovino narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't say anything further. Feliciano was looking at the two of them with consternation.

"Ve, well, I'm sure Lovi will take us there. Are any of your paintings there from the house?"

"Just one. I don't know if they've hung it up yet or not, though, or which museum they'll be putting it into."

The two Italians chatted idly with some input from Ludwig, but Arthur was off in a little depressed world of his own. Just because Lovino was his manager didn't mean he should take advantage of that. How could he finally make him understand how he felt about skiving off work? He really didn't like it; it was effectively taking his friend's money just to play around. Blast. Every time they talked about it, he thought he'd made himself clear, but obviously Lovino had no idea about how all this really affected him. He'd just have to keep trying to explain it, he supposed.

"I'm selling the hotel." Lovino's voice broke into his thoughts.

"What? Why?" he blurted out, before remembering there were others at the table.

"I'm just sick of dealing with it. I don't need it anymore."

"This is somewhat sudden."

"I've been thinking about it since before the Christmas business, actually, but it took me this long to make up my mind."

Oh, yes. He'd mentioned that once before, but Arthur hadn't thought he was serious. Great. Something else to worry about. Why was Lovino selling everything off? Did he really intend to 'chuck it all'? He never said anything about this type of thing to Arthur…he just announced it after his decisions had been made. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever understand the way Lovino thought.

Then he worried that maybe he was losing money on the hotel, and Arthur started to worry about money.

The rest of the meal passed in much the same way as the first part. Arthur was distracted and didn't talk much, although when the dessert arrived, he and Lovino shared a secret smile.

"Oh. I forgot to mention; I got a message from the shippers yesterday; our stuff should be arriving next week."

Arthur smiled at that, too. _Our_ _stuff_. "I guess you'll want me to help unpack things?"

"Do you think I'm going to do all that by myself, bastard?"

Arthur just poked him. "Got it, boss. I'll come help, just tell me when."

Lovino poked him back. "Shut up."

So Arthur shut up.

…

Since Lovino's cars weren't big enough for all of them, he'd squired Feliciano and Ludwig around on the metro all day. After dinner, the four of them took the train back to the hotel, where the visitors parted with good cheer and plans to visit some of the Smithsonian museums the next day.

Lovino invited Arthur to come over to his place. "I've been missing you, even though it's only been a couple of days. Watching those two be all lovey-dovey around each other just makes me cranky."

"Sure, I don't mind. Where's your car?"

"At home. I walked to the station this morning."

"Yes, let's go."

…

As soon as they got inside the townhouse, Lovino drew Arthur into his arms for a comforting hug. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Arthur held him. "What for?"

"Just – just being you, that's all."

"Are you all right?"

"I will be, now. I was getting a little tense around them, and all I could think about was being alone with you, which just made me more tense."

"Don't be tense. Come sit down and relax." They kicked off their shoes.

"Take off that monkey suit. Do you want some tea or anything?"

"I'll be fine." Arthur took off his jacket and tie, remembering to hang them neatly in the coat closet, before joining him on the sofa. Lovino was reclined and reached up his arms to hold him. They snuggled in together without speaking for a while.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you about," Lovino then began. He sounded a little hesitant, so Arthur stayed calm and smiled at him. But this was a good sign. If he wanted to share some decision first –

"Ask."

Lovino stroked his messy hair. "Would you – uh – do you ever think about moving in with me?" He blushed, just a little, and Arthur's eyes widened. When he didn't immediately respond, Lovino poked him and demanded, "Well?"

"I – well, I daydream sometimes, but never seriously thought you'd want to. I'm too much of a slob."

"I think about it all the time."

"Because you can't keep your hands off me," Arthur joked.

"Because I can't keep my mind off you, vain bastard. But – _would_ you ever consider it?"

"Well, I will now! Good thing the motorcycle's getting here soon, or I wouldn't have an easy way to get to work from here. The metro commute from Alexandria would take a lot longer." He thought about this for a minute, hugging Lovino. "I bet it would be a lot of fun together, though, if you didn't kill me for making a mess everywhere."

"Uh."

"Uh what?"

"Well, I…didn't mean that we'd live here."

"What? What do you mean? Not in my apartment!" That would be weird. Weird that he'd suggested it, and weird to live there together.

"No, I…thought we could look for a new house. Together." Lovino seemed a bit flustered by this discussion, but he held Arthur's astonished gaze, pressing his lips together nervously, getting redder and redder in the face.

Arthur panicked. "You – but we – you – is it because you –" Did he have to sell this house? Was the money situation that bad?

Lovino pushed him off. "Dammit, that does it. Let me get up." He left Arthur staring at him and went into the kitchen. When he came back, he thrust a sheet of paper at his friend. "Here. Read this. Not out loud."

He read a number. Just eight digits on a piece of paper.

"Got it?"

"Yes, but…"

"Don't ask any questions, yet. Just – did you read the number?"

"Yes, git, I read the number!"

Lovino grabbed the paper back and tore it into tiny shreds before storming back into the kitchen, presumably to throw it away.

When he came back he sat down and took Arthur's hands. "You still remember the number?"

"Yes! What the hell are you talking about?"

"That is my approximate net worth." Lovino didn't look at him.

Arthur froze. "Th-_that_, is y-your – your – Did I miss a decimal point?" He tried to force a laugh.

Lovino sighed. "No, you did not. And in case you're wondering, that number is – well – it's a bit higher than it was when you and I first met. I'm _very good_ at making money."

He stopped talking. Arthur tried to process this ridiculous number. If Lovino wasn't lying about it – and he couldn't see any reason why his friend would lie – then that meant two things. One, Lovino never, ever had to worry about money, and two, Arthur was totally, hopelessly, outclassed.

"Stop thinking that I'm out of your league," Lovino laughed, and Arthur jumped.

"How – you what?"

"Bastard, you've said that so many times, or variations on it, that I already know how you feel. But it shouldn't have anything to do with us. _Nothing_. We – we care for each other, and we like being together, and that number – that money – shouldn't affect our relationship at all, except that it lets us do a lot more fun things than most people can do. Right?"

Arthur was still a bit stunned. "Er."

"Do you want to be alone, to think about this? I realize it might be a bit of a shock."

"N-no, that's all right. I – I'm glad to know you trust me enough to tell me something like that."

"You proved something about yourself to me, which is why I told you. I should have told you a long time ago, but…I guess I was a little nervous about it."

"What do you mean, I proved something?"

"You're not a stalker! You could probably have looked on the internet and gotten some approximate idea of how much I have, but it was obvious you didn't do that, because you kept worrying about me spending 'all my money' on trivial shit like airfares and motorcycles. Just – just the fact that you didn't know that, well, it shows me that I was right about you. About wanting you in my life."

They were still holding hands, but Arthur let go and swept his friend into a fierce embrace. "You – I –"

His friend held him equally tightly and murmured into his ear. "I know."

After some emotional moments Arthur finally let go and drew back, and was unsurprised to see Lovino looking fairly teary-eyed as well. "Here we are being idiots again."

"I don't mind being an idiot with you," Lovino answered, and they hugged each other again.

After Arthur got himself under control, he leaned against the back of the sofa. "But…do you really want to move in with me? The house would be a mess! And, you know, even if we move somewhere else, I'm probably still going to need to drive to work, or at least drive to a metro station."

"Bastard. Lie down with me again." They resettled themselves as before. "I'm having a lot of different ideas."

"Er."

"Well, don't get all uptight. Let me put my ideas out, and you can take some time – as long as you need; weeks, months – to think about them, and then we can go from there, all right?"

"All right. Tell me your ideas."

Lovino took a deep breath. "So you probably realize now just how little these hotels and things mean to my daily life. They were – uh, experiments, I guess. Other than the race car firm, which I inherited, all the rest of them were like – like playtime for me."

"I kind of understand."

"So, first of all, I don't want you stressing because I'm selling the hotel."

"But that only leaves you with the gallery!"

"Don't get worked up about it! I haven't even told you my ideas yet. Plus you're forgetting about the car company."

"Right, I'll shut it."

Lovino poked him, and then roughed up his hair with a little smile. "But you're right. That only leaves me with the gallery, over here. Now. I don't particularly care whether I keep or sell the gallery. Purely as a business venture, I mean. Yes, it has a lot of senti-sentimental value to me." Arthur kissed him and smiled. "But as a business venture it is not important to me. This is why I didn't buy the building yet, because I'm having these ideas and wanted to talk to you about them."

"Wanker. I thought you just changed your mind about it."

"No. Well, this idea I had. Dammit, this is difficult."

"Don't let it be difficult. Just say what you want!"

"Fine. I want you to stop working in the gallery."

"What? Why, so you can sell it?" Arthur was a bit shocked by this request.

"Well…no…here, let me try to explain. Don't interrupt, all right? Before I – before I found you, I had all the free time in the world. And all the money to do whatever I wanted. But there was never really anything I wanted to do. I bought all these businesses to keep my mind busy, but that's really all they were. Something to do. And then, now, now that we're together, I still have the time and money, and I have a lot more inclination to do fun things, like – like travel, or playing host to Feli and the potato bastard, or even just loafing around with you. Which, by the way, is my favorite thing in the whole world to do now." He grinned at Arthur and they shared a few kisses before he continued. "But I can't, because you have this job. I've tried to subtly push you into loosening up about it, but I'm either too subtle, or you're too nervous or stubborn."

"Probably all that."

"Yeah. But – wouldn't it be a lot more fun if you didn't have a job? We could just do whatever we wanted; sleep late, or run over to England on a whim, or whatever we wanted! Take Feli and Ludwig to the Smithsonian?" he asked archly, raising his eyebrows.

Arthur started laughing at him. "You're the best friend I ever had."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Well. Let me say this. It's obvious to me now that even if I went out and got some astonishing real job – you know what I mean? – I couldn't hope to contribute any notable increase to that number you showed me. So on the one hand, I still feel kind of – of leech-like. But on the other hand, since this is not really a problem to you, if, _if_, it is all right with you, which it sounds like it is, then…well, there is something I'd like to ask."

"Ask, rambling bastard."

"Let's say we do all these marvelous ideas of yours. Buy a house together somewhere, and sell the gallery, or whatever, travel, et cetera. I know you do actual work – you're always working on your laptop – but is there any kind of work I could do for, for the household, or to help you out? I'd still want to feel needed, you know." He turned a concerned face to Lovino, who blushed and scowled.

"Moron. If you don't know how needed you really are –"

The discussion was derailed for a minute while Lovino demonstrated just how much he needed Arthur.

Eventually they managed to focus again. "That wasn't what I meant, though. I mean, contributing to the working of the household."

"Well, yes, there actually is. I told you about my stepfather's personal assistant. She took care of all our home administrative stuff. Making travel arrangements, scheduling maid service, making sure the cars are kept in repair? You could do that stuff. It would free me up a little bit and I could get my business work done more efficiently." He looked at Arthur carefully, tangling his fingers in the messy hair. "I never wanted to hire somebody, but if you could do that – do you think you could, or would, do that?"

"Well, obviously I could_,_ since I do some of that for the gallery. And…I have to admit it would be a lot more fun doing that for you – for us – than it is there. So I would say that answer is _yes._"

"I have a feeling our lives are going to get much, much better," Lovino sighed happily. "I'm so glad you're considering this. I thought you'd freak out about the money and not listen to any of my other ideas."

"I'll always listen_._ I may not agree, but I'll listen."

"Good, because with you lying on top of me, kissing me, all this time, I'm having some very exciting ideas that I'd like you to listen to."

"Nh. Don't want to listen. Just show me." Arthur grinned.

"You asked for it, bastard."

…


	51. Portrait of a Man as St George

**Portrait of a Man as St. George.** (Tintoretto, oil on canvas, 1550)

"Ve! Thank you for taking time off work, Arthur!" Feliciano threw his summer hat in the air joyfully.

"It is very convenient that you work for Lovino, so that you may arrange extra time off."

Arthur laughed, blushing a little. "Yes, he's a pretty laid-back employer, like he said before."

"All you bastards just shut the hell up, and get on the fucking train."

…

"I am not very conversant with Asian art," Ludwig admitted. "I'm surprised there is such an extensive collection of it here."

"I have to admit it's not one of my favorite styles. I prefer the European galleries. But every now and then it's helpful to get a different perspective; sometimes it inspires me to use unusual elements in my work, gold leaf, or inkstrokes, that sort of thing." Arthur led them through the Freer Gallery.

Lovino spent most of the morning wrapped in contemplation, listening to Arthur's well-informed commentary, examining the works he pointed out; this had a side benefit, which was that he didn't have to think about the fucking potato bastard too much. Several times either Ludwig or Feliciano asked Arthur some very pertinent questions, which he answered with ease. Lovino was proud of his friend, proud of his knowledge and his easy manner. Glad that he was taking most of the host duties today, instead of making Lovino try to discuss something he knew so little about.

This was the first time they'd been to a museum together; somehow over Christmas they'd managed to do a lot of tourist things, but not that. Lovino was daydreaming about what it would be like to tour all the museums in Europe with Arthur as his personal, private tour guide, when Feli poked him in the stomach. "Ve! Are you on the moon or something?"

Lovino snorted. "What? No. What? What are we talking about?"

"You _were_ on the moon! We were just talking about lunch. Arthur says the museum restaurants aren't very good, and they're expensive too."

"He's probably right; he's been right about everything else today. Well, then, knowledgeable bastard, where should we go for lunch?"

Arthur smirked at this form of address. "Er."

"What? You're worrying me."

"I'm always worrying you, git. How – how about a German restaurant?"

Ludwig's eyes lit up immediately. "I would love that!"

"Cheh, of course you would." Damn Arthur!

"What I mean is that living in Italy doesn't allow me to eat German food very often. Plus I believe it could be interesting to see how Americans perceive a German restaurant to be."

"But it's _German food._" Lovino shuddered almost imperceptibly. Gah, potatoes! Wurst! He shuddered again.

"Oh, let's try it, ve, Lovi; it's just for one meal."

Lovino felt like the Spartans at Thermopylae. "You'd seriously eat German food?" he asked Arthur in desperation.

"I'll eat anything, you know that. I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't want to eat it."

"Chigi! But…well...all right. Just this once." Since it was Arthur's idea. But they'd have to have a serious talk about this later, dammit.

Feli hugged Lovino. "Do you know of a German place, Arthur?"

"Yes, I do. Come on, it's down this way."

…

"Well?" Feliciano asked, mussing up Lovino's hair. "You made it! You actually ate a meal at a German restaurant, ve. And you didn't die." He giggled a little.

"Shut up, idiot," he grumbled, fixing his hair, staring at the sidewalk. "I didn't eat that much."

Behind him, Arthur leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you, git."

"Dammit!" He lashed out a fist without looking up.

Ludwig recoiled. "Ouch! Lovino! Why are you hitting me_?_"

"_Dammit!_ Everybody just leave me alone!" He stalked away, putting a good thirty feet of distance between him and his startled friends.

"Er – I think he was trying to hit me, Ludwig. Sorry."

"That's all right. It didn't hurt; it simply surprised me."

"Should we go after him, ve?"

"I'll go," Arthur said. "He's mad at me, and I know why. You two wait here."

He hurried to Lovino's side. "You're being a jerk, you know. If you didn't get so uptight about this rubbish, you wouldn't be so – er – uptight?" He realized how lame that sounded; he didn't need Lovino's snort to confirm it. "Sorry. But you know what I mean."

"Yes, bastard, I know what you mean." He turned to look back at their visitors, who had, as Arthur had instructed, stayed put. "Why the hell did you have to suggest a German restaurant? If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be like this."

"Tell you what. Come back and join us, and tonight you can tell me in great detail all about why you hate Germans so much. I don't understand it, and clearly you have some kind of serious issue about it, so I want to understand. But it's not very nice of you to throw a tantrum while you have guests." Arthur hoped that hadn't sounded too imperious. In a soothing voice he continued, "Please calm down. Feli is so worried."

"_He's_ worried? You're not?" He was still frowning.

Arthur rubbed his thumb softly over the nape of Lovino's neck. "Well, I am a little, but I know you should be all right when you're alone again. I'm not too worried." He drew back a little. It seemed like Lovino was beginning to relax. "Will you be all right?"

"Dammit," his friend said, but weakly, as if he were too tired to bother. "Yes. Thanks." He blew Arthur a tiny air kiss.

Arthur broke into a sunny smile. "That's good. Come on, let's go back. Don't worry." He wanted to take Lovino's hand, to reassure him, but figured that might do more harm than good, so they walked back to the others, Lovino looking off to the side, still scowling, and Arthur still glowing.

…

"Now, plunk your arse down on this sofa and tell me what your problem is with Germans."

Lovino plunked. "It – it's not Germans," he began.

"Rubbish."

"Will you shut up and listen? It's not Germans, it's Ludwig in specific. He – he sort of taints all Germans with the same damn brush."

"All right, then, what's your problem with Ludwig? Seems easygoing enough. And Feli cares for him, so –?"

Lovino drew a deep breath and let it all out in a rush. "That – that's part of the problem."

"You don't think he's good enough for your friend?"

"Huh? Well, sort of, I guess, but that wasn't what I meant." Lovino sat back against the couch. "I told you Feli was always into the girls, right? When he started dating that macho potato, I felt like – like Ludwig had corrupted my friend, tempting him into dating a man, instead of being normal like he used to be. I – I always had a hard time understanding how a man can be attracted to another man…but it wasn't really a problem until it was my own friend doing it. Do you see what I mean?"

Arthur nodded.

"Anyway, that's all sort of ancient history now, you know. Obviously I can understand how a man can be attracted to another man." He nudged Arthur with his elbow. "I've come to accept that he makes Feli happy, and I don't want to be judgmental towards my friend, so – I – I work hard and try to deal with it."

"You don't seem like it."

"Cheh, well, I still hate the fact that he's so tall and blond and macho. He was in the fucking _military_! I feel – well – I feel inadequate around him," Lovino admitted.

"_Inadequate_? You're mental." Arthur stared at Lovino incredulously.

"What? Why? Look at me; I'm scrawny and weak and dark –"

"Sexy and brilliant and fun –"

Lovino sat up and punched him in the arm, scowling. "– And surly and withdrawn –"

"– And gorgeous and artistic –"

"– And nasty and selfish –"

"– And generous and kind –"

"– And irritable and, uh, rude –" But Lovino was laughing now.

"Irritable is the same as surly, git," Arthur smiled, hugging him.

Lovino hugged him back. "You understand, though?" His voice still held a lot of amusement.

"Yes, I understand. I just don't want you to be hurting."

"Arthur, when I'm with you, I'm never hurting." Lovino kissed him.

"Except at German restaurants."

"Bastard. That reminds me; I'm starving. I was afraid to eat. Come on; let me take you out to dinner."

"Fine with me. Let's go."

…

They ended up at a nearby Italian restaurant; neither had felt like going too far afield. Arthur had suggested it, hoping it would make Lovino feel better. He did seem in higher spirits by the time they'd gotten there.

Waiters always brought a cup of crayons to every table, regardless of whether or not there were children there, because the tablecloths were made of paper. Arthur always sketched something to amuse his friend. Tonight he picked up the crayons and was floored to hear Lovino request that he sketch Ludwig. "Er – are you feeling all right?" He reached up a hand to feel his friend's forehead.

"Stop that. Yes, I'm all right, bastard. I have an idea, but I know I can't draw him right. Will you draw him for me?"

"What are you going to do, pour sauce all over him?" They laughed at this.

"Just do it, all right? If you can draw it so he's facing me, that would be good."

Arthur still looked a little worried, but he came around to Lovino's side of the table and sketched a little cartoony Ludwig face, about the size of an apple. "That all right?"

"Thanks, yes."

He went back to his seat and watched curiously as Lovino tested different crayons, presumably for color, on the paper tablecloth. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing, or do I have to guess?"

"You'll see. Don't watch, dammit. I hate people watching me work."

"Even me?"

"Even you. Now shut up while I try to do this."

Arthur spared some time to look around the restaurant. It was early in the evening and there weren't too many patrons there yet. He drank some tea and wondered how long it would take the food to get to the table.

"There," Lovino announced after a few minutes. "Want to see?"

"Of course. You're being so mysterious." He got up and walked over to see that his friend had used a blue crayon to draw a gigantic puffy mustache on the cartoon Ludwig. Arthur started laughing. "What the hell?" He kept laughing as he went back to his seat.

"Well, I wanted to draw something to make him less macho, or whatever, and other than pigtails this was all I could think of."

"It does make him look pretty bad. Now every time I see him I'll think of that. Put the bloody pigtails on him, too."

Lovino did so. The waiter brought their food. "And _now_ I'm going to pour sauce on him. Thanks for the suggestion." He dribbled some aioli on the drawing and covered it with a napkin as they settled in to eat their meal.

…

_Yes, they're eating at Romano's Macaroni Grill. _


	52. Colonel Acland and Lord Sydney

**Colonel Acland and Lord Sydney: The Archers.** (Sir Joshua Reynolds, oil on canvas, 1769)

"I'm sorry to see you two go," Arthur said as they stood in the loud, crowded main hall of Dulles Airport. "I hope you had a good time; I did."

Feliciano hugged him. "Ve, of course we did, silly. Thank you for all you did for us."

Ludwig opted for a handshake. "Yes, it was most enjoyable. I hadn't expected to have such a fun time."

Only Arthur heard the tiny growl emanating from Lovino's throat. "Just take care of Feli, bastard."

"He does! He always does, ve." Feli hugged his old friend, too. "You two take care of each other." He beamed at them.

"You know we will," Arthur told him. He put an arm around Lovino's shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze.

"Chigi!" Lovino twisted out of his grip, red and instantly angry, glaring out the windows. "Just – just go, dammit, before you miss your flight." Arthur looked at the departing friends and shrugged.

"Whatever you say, Lovi. Give me a call when you'll be in Rome again, yes?"

"Yes, idiot, I will." But he turned back and gave his old friend an affectionate smile. "Of course I will."

"We need to get through the security gates," Ludwig pointed out.

"Yeah. Uh – th-thanks for coming with Feli," Lovino mumbled, looking away again.

Neither Arthur nor Feliciano could hide a grin at this, but luckily Lovino was still facing out the big windows. "Ve, we'll talk to you later!" The guests picked up their carry-ons and headed towards the gates with a final wave.

Arthur put his arm around Lovino's shoulders again. "You all right?"

"Cheh, yes, of course I am, stupid. Let go of me. Let's get out of the fucking airport." They negotiated their way through the bustling throngs of noisy travelers until they stood outside in the taxi zone. Lovino took a deep breath, but didn't speak.

"It was nice of you to say that to Ludwig."

"Shut up."

They got into the back of a cab to head home. Lovino leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. "Don't hug me in public, dammit."

"You're too bloody uptight."

"I know. Deal with it."

"Git. Feli hugs you in public. You never yell at him."

There was no response. Arthur turned to look out the window; maybe there would be something soothing out there to take his mind off this.

…

When the taxi drew up to Lovino's house he got out immediately and paid the driver. He and Arthur hadn't spoken since they'd left the airport. Almost an hour of staring out the window and feeling angry. Dammit.

But Arthur didn't get out of the cab. Lovino stuck his head back in the open window. "Hey, bastard, we're here. Get out of the cab."

"No; I think I'll go home for a while. I'll talk to you later." He gave the cab driver his address and they drove off, leaving the stricken Lovino staring after them.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, before remembering he was standing on the sidewalk. Dammit. Lovino went into his house and got a glass of water, which he drank very quickly. Damn Arthur. Why did he have to get so fucking overbearing all of a sudden? Lovino had even made an extra effort to be nice to the potato bastard! Couldn't Arthur see how much effort that cost him, how stressed it had made him?

Oh, this was _stupid_, dammit_._ He wasn't going to be able to relax now. Lovino chugged the rest of the water, grabbed the keys to the Jaguar, and left for his friend's place.


	53. Virginian Partridge

**Virginian Partridge.** (John James Audubon, copperplate etching, 1838)

Yes, Arthur was hopping mad when the cab pulled away from Lovino's house, but by the time they pulled up outside his apartment building he'd started to regret his hasty action. Blast it, now they'd have another stupid fight; he was not in the mood for it, and – _bollocks._ Arthur paid the cab driver and decided to walk around a little instead of heading to his apartment.

He walked back down the street towards the shops, hands in his pockets, wondering what had made Lovino so angry today. It surely couldn't have been the guests' departure. He should have been happy to see the back of Ludwig, for one thing, and for another, he'd be seeing Feli in just a few months when he headed to Rome for his quarterly trip. Arthur couldn't remember anything _he_ had done that might have angered his friend, but he was always willing to concede that Lovino might have taken offense at something innocuous. He often seemed to read a lot of insult into some of the smallest things. Could it have been his halfhearted embrace? That would be rather unreasonable. It's not as though Arthur had been trying to, to _seduce_ him in the middle of the ruddy airport!

Arthur kept walking and thinking. As if in a dream he saw Lovino's distinctive primrose car pull up to the curb just ahead of him. The roof was down and Lovino stared fixedly ahead, blushing and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, but he stayed at the curb and waited. Hm, he must have left the house almost as soon as the cab had driven off. So – maybe there really wasn't a problem? Or maybe there was, and Lovino wanted to sort it out quickly. Either way, things were looking up. Arthur walked to the car and got in, fixing his seat belt, waiting for his friend to make the opening move.

Lovino maneuvered the car into traffic before offering a curt "Sorry."

That was it? Well, Arthur didn't want to escalate this fight. "Me too."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Eh, surprise me." He cut his eyes to his friend, who was looking relieved. That had been almost too easy. He was still a little worried, and he still wanted to know what the problem had been. When they got to their destination, he'd ask.

…

Arthur guessed where they were going before long. "It's a good day for it," he grinned, stretching his arms to the sky, enjoying the breeze on his face and in his hair.

"How the hell did you know where I was going?"

"Wanker. Where the hell else would we go on a day like today?"

"Yes, yes, whatever, psychic bastard. You don't have your sketchbook today, though."

"Don't want to sketch. Want to have some fun with you. We can get rid of the potato bastard memories."

Lovino started laughing. "I really am sorry, Arthur. You're so good to me, and I treat you like shit sometimes. I'm surprised you still want to be with me."

"Sometimes I'm surprised myself," he laughed in response, lifting Lovino's hand for a kiss, surprised too that he didn't end up on the receiving end of a punch. "What was it that got you so upset?"

"That bastard. Trying to be nice to him. And – and I'm still a little, uh, freaked out by you hugging me in public."

"But that wasn't really a _hug_. Not like a sexy hug. Just a friendship kind of thing, like Feliciano gives you. People do that all the time."

"I know. But…I like your sexy hugs, and I'm afraid I'll forget we're in public and react inappropriately."

"_Oh._" Now Arthur understood. "I guess my hugs are pretty bloody distracting," he admitted with a grin.

"Bastard. But…yeah." This time Lovino did hit him, and he laughed.

…

Great Falls was crowded today, compared to last time, and their special outcropping of rocks had park patrons swarming all over it. "Dammit."

"Don't get so bloody uptight. There are plenty of nice places to be, here. Come on, let's walk."

"Cheh, all right. Let's go up the river path again."

So instead of sitting, they spent the rest of the day wandering around, watching the kayakers, and talking of various things.

"I'm proud of you," Arthur eventually said.

"For what? Being nice to fucking Ludwig? I admit, I deserve a lot of praise for that. It made my teeth hurt."

"Ha! No, that wasn't even what I was talking about. I'm not going to praise you for common decency, git."

"Shut up. Do you want to start another fight?"

"Depends. Will you get over yourself as quickly as you did the last one?"

"_That's_ what you're proud of me for? Bastard."

"Well, you have to admit it was unlike you."

"Fuck off."

"Here we go again," Arthur grumbled, looking out over the river. "Forget I said anything."

Lovino didn't respond. In a minute Arthur turned around, only to find him about a hundred yards away, staring in the other direction, with his hands clenched. Bollocks, he was a temperamental git sometimes. Well, Arthur wasn't going to say anything. He'd just wait for Lovino to calm down, get a grip, and come back. He turned back to look at the water.

He was just beginning to grasp what made Lovino feel so peaceful around rivers and lakes when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. "Yes?" He didn't turn.

"Will – will you come back home with me?"

"What do you think? Think I want to walk home from here?"

"Bastard, you are _not_ helping."

Arthur sighed. "Yes, I know I'm not. Sorry. I just get tired of you being so shirty all the time."

"Dammit! I'm not shirty _all the time!_ In fact," Lovino said, in a more thoughtful tone, "I would venture to say I'm never 'shirty_._' I can be a bastard, I know, but I dislike this term 'shirty' and you should stop using it." He poked Arthur.

"All right, spoiled git. I'll do whatever you say, since that's the only thing that will make you happy," he spat.

"_Arthur_. I'm trying to get over this. Will you shut the fuck up and listen?"

Arthur finally turned around. "Of course. You make it so worthwhile, with all these reasonable and polite requests." He scowled.

"Dammit. Forget I said anything." Lovino turned and stomped back to where he'd been standing before.

Arthur turned and faced the water again, trying to recapture that sense of peace.

He couldn't.

He sneaked a peek at Lovino, who was still in the same spot, but seated on the ground, head in hands, while park-goers milled around him. Bloody hell.

Arthur spent a few minutes dithering, during which time Lovino didn't move or react at all, even though a big Newfoundland dog came and sniffed at him. Then a couple of little kids came running along the path; the first one tripped and fell near him, beginning to cry. Arthur could see that his friend was about to explode with anger at the kid, so he broke out of his indecision and ran to grab Lovino by the arm and distract him while the little boy ran away.

"Chigi! What are you doing? Let go of me."

"Wanker. I didn't want you taking it out on that kid. Stand up."

"Bastard." But he did stand up.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. If we're going to fight we can do it in the privacy of my apartment, or in the car."

They walked to the car in silence and got in. "Uh – and if we're not going to fight?"

"Aren't we?"

"Why should we? I feel like an ass, and you're acting like an overbearing idiot. Why don't we just forget about all this and get back to normal?" Lovino started the car and pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.

"You're serious?"

"Hell, yes! Why wouldn't I be? I hate fighting with you. I just wish I could control myself a little better. Sometimes I get so pissed off at the littlest things, and it just makes me more and more angry. I'm sorry I can't deal with this better. Maybe I am spoiled."

"Unquestionably you're spoiled," Arthur countered, but he said it with a grin. He hated fighting, too. "Sure. Let's forget about it. But I am proud of you for trying to get over it so fast."

"You're such a supercilious bastard. But you know…that might be one of the things I like best about you. You're not afraid to speak your mind, even though you know it pisses me off."

Arthur laughed. "So we're all right, git?"

"Yes, yes, dammit, I'm all right if you are. Are you?"

"Yes."

About ten minutes later, Arthur said in a small voice, "And – and I _was_ proud of you for being nice to Ludwig, wanker."

Lovino burst into laughter and ruffled Arthur's hair. "Thanks, bastard. That means a lot."

…


	54. Evening

**Evening.** (Arthur Gilbert, oil on canvas, 1873)

"Hey, there's Gilbert! Bloody hell, is that _Feliks? _Damn." Arthur and Lovino were seated at a table at the Kennedy Center's Roof Terrace restaurant prior to a performance downstairs. It would be Arthur's first time at an opera, but not Lovino's; he'd felt somewhat culturally deprived after all those Smithsonian visits, so he'd talked the amenable Arthur into a date. They'd just been seated for their meal when Arthur had seen his friend at the door. The albino hadn't noticed them yet.

Lovino turned in his seat to look and Gilbert caught his eye, bursting into a toothy, artificial grin, making him look like an insane tiger about to strike. Dammit. "Uh."

"Uh what?" Arthur waved at Gilbert and his female date. "Bollocks. If that is Feliks, he makes a very striking woman. I guess we have to call him Felicia tonight, if we talk to them?" The woman did indeed look quite dramatic in a turquoise Chanel-style suit with bubblegum-pink accents.

"Will you shut up? Dammit, I was going to try to be nice and ask if you wanted to invite them to sit with us, but if you're going to be a bastard about it, forget it." Lovino scrubbed his hand through his hair and fixed it again.

"You were? That's so – so social of you, especially considering we just got rid of Ludwig last week. But – were you serious?"

"Yes, dammit, I was serious. Will you stop being stupid if they sit with us?"

"I'll be a model of deportment. You can trust me."

"Bastard."

Arthur waved his friend over. It hadn't seemed possible, but Gilbert's smile got even bigger; he spoke to the host, who led them to the table.

"Kesesese!" He introduced them to his date (it was indeed Felicia), who sat next to Arthur, so Gilbert ended up taking the seat next to Lovino himself. "Great to see you two. I actually thought Artie was making it all up, when he told me you were dating."

Lovino and Arthur both ignored this and greeted Felicia, who responded pleasantly.

"So, this is pretty awesome, isn't it? What are you two going to see tonight? Opera or the ballet? We're going to the ballet."

"Seriously?" Lovino couldn't help himself.

"It's 'Alice in Wonderland,'" Felicia told him with a smile. "I've, like, never heard of it being performed as a ballet, but it sounded interesting. I find ballet so totally amazing, the way the dancers seem to, you know, float on the air."

"We're going to the opera," Arthur said. "It's my first time."

The waiter took their orders. For a while they discussed ballet versus opera, then various music genres. Lovino was quite surprised that he was not very uptight around these two, although Gilbert's excitable manner did get on his nerves a little.

When the food arrived, Gilbert suddenly said, "So tell me how you guys started dating! I totally told Arthur to date you, you know." He nudged Lovino with an elbow. "He so awesomely talked you into it, didn't he? I knew he could. Kesesese!"

Lovino didn't need to look at his friend to know he'd be blushing and angry; they both were. "It's none of your business," he said curtly.

"Gilbert, please drop it," Arthur managed.

"Wow. Are you guys uptight! All right, if it makes you happy." He shrugged. "So what have you been doing lately? Gallery doing all right?"

"Eh, as well as can be expected. We go through phases where everybody's art-mad, and then dry spells where we can't sell a painting to save our lives." Arthur grinned. "Luckily this is a good phase."

"That's great. Do you ever sell any of your paintings there? That would be totally cool, but, I guess you only sell stuff by real artists, huh?"

Lovino bristled. "What do you mean? Arthur is a real artist." Fucking bastard.

"Oh, you know what I meant. Famous artists."

"Arthur will be famous someday!"

"Er – I – well, we do sell some of my paintings," the artist said in a mollifying tone. "I've sold about six so far."

"Hey! That _is_ awesome. I'm proud of you. Did you ever paint any of me? Kesesese, I'd love to think of myself hanging in some art collector's library."

"No. I never did anything with the sketches of you."

"Wait, like, wait a minute," Felicia said. "You're, like, a painter?"

"He's an artist, not a painter, dammit. Painters paint houses."

"Don't get mad at Felicia just because I forgot to mention it. Sorry, dear." Gilbert blew Felicia a kiss. "Yes, Arthur is an awesome artist, even though his workroom is a total mess!"

"Shut it, git. The artistic temperament is not bound by the menial constraints that – er – pertain to ordinary humans."

At this, all four of them burst into laughter. "Whatever you say, Artie."

Gilbert continued to flash cheeky grins at both Arthur and Felicia as they continued the conversation and meal, but Lovino kept his face turned down towards his plate, by now simply hoping they could finish without any stupid commentary. He didn't want to come across as an overbearing bastard, but the way things were going with Gilbert at the table, Lovino knew his fuse was getting shorter.

His head snapped up as he felt Arthur's knee nudging him under the table, a reassuring touch. Lovino turned red again and looked right back down towards the table. He didn't dare look up again in case Arthur was giving him that sweet smile that always melted his heart. He refused, he absolutely _refused_ to look like a sap in front of these bastards!

But he pressed his knee against Arthur's, to reciprocate his support, and then finished his food.

…

"Gilbert's a bit of a tosser sometimes, I know," Arthur apologized with a sigh, as they took their seats for the opera.

"I – I'm still, well, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of him. Them."

"Not at all, Lovino. I could see he was stressing you out. He was stressing _me_ out, too."

"I don't think I'm quite ready for – for double dates. For people knowing, knowing we – we're –"

"I understand. I don't mind that at all, as long as we can be close when we're alone together. But for what it's worth, Gilbert may seem like a thoughtless blabbermouth, but if you ask him to keep something quiet, he will. He didn't get to be a bank vice president by being indiscreet."

"Guess I have to take your word for it."

The lights went down. Arthur grabbed his friend's hand for a quick squeeze; Lovino smiled at him briefly before the room completely darkened. They sat back to enjoy a bit of musical culture. Lovino let the music wash away his tension, relaxing in the presence of his friend.

…

_I never heard of the artist in the chapter title, but his name was too good to pass up (I searched on "Gilbert painting" to see what came up). The painting is quite nice, too. I do like landscapes._


	55. Palace with Many Sculptures in Niches

**Palace with Many Sculptures in Niches and a Fountain.** (Giuseppe Valeriani, pen, brush and bistre, mid-1700s)

"Bastard, let's go out to celebrate." Lovino came in and flourished some kind of document at Arthur, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Sale of the gallery. I swear, you're like some kind of fucking good luck charm for me. Ever since I met you, everything I'm trying to sell off sells in record time at a great profit."

"Bloody hell, just what I always aspired to be. A _fucking good luck charm_."

"Cut the sarcasm, idiot. Do you want to go out to dinner or not?"

"Yes, fine! Let me lock up." Arthur locked up and they left the gallery for the night.

…

"Morton's is a good place to celebrate," he sighed, resting his chin in his hand, gazing around the restaurant.

"Stupid. Why do you think I picked it?" Lovino smirked at him. "So, listen. Some of this gallery stuff concerns you."

"Me? How?"

"Let me start at the beginning. The new owner's name is Matthew Williams, and he's taking over the lease, artworks, furnishings and the client list, at the end of the month."

"Oh – but we can't let him have that painting from your library."

"Don't be an idiot. The fewer people that see that, the better. I wouldn't leave that there."

"Good. Fine. Please continue. I'm sorry I interrupted." Arthur put on a mock-penitent face.

"No, you're not, bastard. You never are. Anyway, he's going to call you to see if you want to stay on as gallery manager."

"What? But –"

"No, relax, you don't need to work, we already talked about that. But I left it for him to discuss with you. I didn't want to sound too – _bossy_ about it and tell him you'd rather be unemployed than work for him."

"That's a kind of blunt way to put it. And not entirely accurate."

"Oh? You mean you'd rather work for him than have fun with me?" Lovino tried to pout.

Arthur started laughing at him. "Don't try that, git; you look insane. Anyway, I just meant it was somewhat of a prevarication."

"Well, I know, but I also didn't want to tell him the real reason you were unemployed, you know."

"Yes, I understand. So – the end of this month? That's actually not much time…less than two weeks? But then, it's not like we have to do much, is it?" he realized.

"Right. There's nothing I really want from there – art-wise – but is there anything you want?"

Arthur thought about this. "Eh, nothing that leaps to mind. I'll take a look after I get back to work on Monday."

"Okay, that works for me. Well, we're actually owners until the first of August, but that's a Sunday. So the arrangement is that we'll meet him at his office on Monday morning, the second, and hand over the keys and things."

"All right. Whatever works. So is he going to call me about this job offer? Ha, maybe I should play along and see how much he offers me. See if he's more generous than you were." He started laughing about this in earnest.

"Oh, shut up," Lovino grumbled. "But that does remind me. I'm going to keep paying you, like a salary, instead of making you come and ask me for money when you need things, all right? Since I'm taking away your gainful employment. You need some kind of money of your own. Not just for your paints and shit, but if – if we're going to be doing a lot of things together, I want you to be able to – to do them appropriately, you understand?"

"Not really. You mean like flying first class instead of coach?"

"Well, no, because I'll cover all that stuff. I mean – well, I guess I mean like the tuxedo. Remember that night, here? You said you'd get a rental tux." Arthur nodded and smiled at the memory; they were actually seated at the same table tonight as they'd been that night. "Having your own tux made sense to me when you were simply my employee; things like that are doubly important to me now that we'll be – be doing a lot more together. But it would be silly to make you come ask me for money, or ask me to cover the bills, whatever, so I'm going to keep making direct deposits to your account. All right? Use it as you need it."

"Sure. Thanks. I'm still interested in seeing how much Mr. Williams might offer me, though."

"Bastard. He'll never offer you as much as I can." Lovino smiled at him.

"And I'd never let him, wanker." Arthur blew him a surreptitious kiss and raised his glass in a toast.

…

_Why do I get the feeling that Lovino has taken poor Matthew to the cleaners on this deal?_


	56. La Plaine de Gennevilliers

**La Plaine de Gennevilliers. ** (Gustave Caillebotte, oil on canvas, 1888)

"I'm confused about something."

"Well, if it's something I can help you with, ask, and I will, idiot."

Today was the last work day at the gallery. Lovino had picked up coffee from the shop next door, and the two of them were now drinking it, waiting around in case a client showed up, talking of this and that.

"The motorcycle's here."

"How is that confusing?"

"Will you shut it and let me finish?" Arthur hadn't finished his coffee yet. Maybe this was why he was so cranky? "I know you have a Ferrari and that sweet old Lancia we took out a few times. What happened to them? Are you shipping them over? You never said." He drank some coffee.

"Oh. No. That Lancia, it's pretty sweet, you're right, but it's also a bitch to maintain. A lot of times I had to get my people to stop work so they could invent and build parts to repair it. I donated it to a car museum. It still looks good for a museum, even if it doesn't run so well. They were pretty happy to get it."

"I don't blame them. What about the Ferrari?"

"Kept it; it's parked at the factory. I figured we might need it if we're over there for anything; they'll take it out for a spin every now and then to make sure it's in good condition."

"Good thinking." Arthur moved closer and dropped his voice seductively. "I also wanted to know –" But a client came in to browse. Lovino took the coffees and went back to the office to wait, so that Arthur could deal with the client.

While he waited, he opened his old sketchbook and tried doing some work. He'd been doing this more often, and was getting a little happier, but of course he wasn't anywhere near the level of Arthur, who could rough out an accurate scene in seconds. Still, he persevered. It was more important to him now – now that he and Arthur were together – that he learn this. His friend helped a lot with explanations and suggestions, but when it came right down to it, only Lovino could make himself improve.

He looked around the room for inspiration and all he saw was that stupid painting of himself as a kid, which he needed to remember to take with them tonight. But he got a funny little idea while looking at it, so he started to sketch; while he worked, he wondered whether Arthur had ever looked at the old drawing Lovino had accidentally done in his sketchbook, and what he might have thought when he'd seen it. Maybe he'd ask about that, later. How idiotic he felt. Why hadn't he realized, back then, that he was attracted to Arthur? They could have been together so much sooner!

Well. Not really. Lovino doubted whether he'd have been able to deal with this kind of relationship back then. He'd needed the slow, easy developments they'd gone through, to help him understand how right it could be, how – how honorable Arthur was, and not some fucking grasping bastard. Lovino daydreamed about his friend for a minute, but then resolutely shoved these thoughts aside and kept drawing.

It was nearly two hours later when he looked up and checked his watch. Dammit! How had he wasted so much time on this? And where was Arthur? Surely that client hadn't taken two full hours of his time? He'd better go check. That's all he needed, something going wrong on the last day they were open.

Arthur was staring out the window when Lovino came out of the back room.

"Are you all right, bastard?"

He turned. "Yes. Why? Do I look sick or something?"

"No, but I've been in that back office for two hours! Why didn't you come get me when the client left?"

"I did, wanker. I came back three times and you were so intent on your work I didn't want to interrupt, so I just waited out here until you were done."

"Oh."

"What were you working on?"

Lovino smirked a little. "I'll show you later. But there was something else you were going to ask me, before that client came in –?"

"Ah. Yes." Arthur moved closer and lowered his voice again, although there was no one else in the gallery. "I wondered whether you might like to make love on top of the big desk tonight after we close." He looked over at it.

"What?" Lovino spun in place to eye it. "That desk? You – what? Why?"

Arthur turned red, but kept looking at the desk. "I don't know; it's just such a big desk, so classy. I've always liked it, and I kind of feel bad that we're not going to keep it, and…well…whatever. Sorry." He turned away and raked a hand through his hair.

Lovino was trying to juggle two different thought processes and couldn't quite get ahold of either one. Finally he just walked over and sat on the desk absently.

When he hadn't spoken, Arthur turned around and looked at him somewhat warily. "Did I – piss you off with that idea?"

"Cheh. No." But Lovino had followed the other train of thought, and wasn't thinking about sex at all anymore. "I have to make a phone call." He got off the desk and wandered back into the office.

…

"What the hell was all that about?" Arthur was pretty irritated himself, by now. He'd been working up his nerve all week to make that sexy suggestion and Lovino had just brushed him off? Obviously he needed to come up with more creative ways to seduce him.

"Just – uh – well, never mind, you'll find out soon enough. Ready to go?" He had the faux Gainsborough under one arm. Arthur still didn't know the name of the artist who'd painted it. He'd already moved his few personal belongings out earlier this week.

He gave one last longing look at the desk – he'd really wanted to commemorate their gallery time that way – and sighed. "Yes, wanker, I'm ready to go." They locked up, set the alarms and closed the blinds, leaving through the back.

"So, listen." Lovino drove towards his house, where they'd decided to go after work.

"I'm listening." Well, he was, but not very attentively.

When they'd driven a couple of miles – Lovino chattering in a businesslike tone the whole time – and Arthur realized he was supposed to be answering a question, he reddened and looked out the window of the car. "Er."

"You weren't paying attention, were you? What's the matter with you?"

"Ah, nothing; I'm just being cranky. What were you asking me?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes, but repeated himself. "I thought we could do some – some house investigations this weekend, if you're still interested? I mean, still interested in moving in with me?"

"Of course I am. Why, are you having second thoughts?" Bollocks, that would explain his reluctance to –

"No! Stupid. Why would I be asking about it if I was having second thoughts?" Lovino looked really confused now.

"Maybe you should just take me home. I'm really not in a good mood."

"I noticed_._" Lovino drove in silence for a little while. "What's the problem?" he finally asked.

"Nh. Sad to see the gallery go, I guess."

"This is about the fucking desk, isn't it?"

"Er – no."

"You're a sucky liar. Don't worry about the damn desk, all right? I bought it back from Williams and it'll be delivered to my house next week. That's why I want to go look at houses. Now that the stupid parlor sofa's wedged into my living room, if we put that desk in there, there won't be any room to move! We need a bigger place. All right?" Lovino was scowling out at traffic.

"You think throwing money at things is the way to solve problems?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to buy the bloody desk! Well, maybe I did, a little," Arthur admitted, "but I really wanted to – you know – in the gallery; we've had so many good days and nights together there, and I – I really wanted to, sort of, say farewell that way. Ah, forget it, I'm too bloody sentimental, just forget it." He stared out the window again, gnawing his fingernails, a habit he knew that the elegant Lovino hated, but he couldn't stop himself.

His friend drove on until they reached the next intersection, and then he u-turned in the middle of the road.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, although he had already guessed.

"Shut up. Why don't you tell me this stuff instead of being all mysterious about it? You know I can't deal with that subtle shit. Just _tell me._ I would have stayed and – and – and we could have done that. But you said you felt bad that we weren't keeping the desk, so I thought it was the fucking _desk_ you were worried about!"

"Wanker! I told you what I wanted to do."

"Yeah, but the way you said it, it was all about the desk, not the – the memories_._ Dammit, Arthur, you know I'm just as sentimental as you are. You know that."

They were nearly halfway back to the gallery by now, since traffic was moving in the opposite direction. "Do you resent me selling the gallery?" Lovino then asked, somewhat meekly, rubbing his face.

"Of course not. It's your gallery, you do what you want."

"Dammit!" Lovino punched the steering wheel and set the horn off, startling both of them. "Shut up. I don't want to talk about this while I'm driving."

Arthur obediently shut up and wondered how the conversation had managed to degenerate so far.

…

Lovino keyed in the security code and turned the lights on, locking the back door behind them. "Come into the front and let's talk about this."

Arthur shook his head, but followed. Lovino leaned against the desk. Arthur paced.

"Stop pacing."

"Shut it."

"Fine. Something's bothering you more than just – just fooling around on the fucking desk."

"Bloody hell!" Arthur yelled.

This was unlike him. He hadn't yelled at Lovino in a very long time. Lovino slipped off his suit jacket and laid it on the guest chair, waiting; Arthur kept pacing, and not talking. "Well?"

Arthur finally stopped and faced him, although he wouldn't meet his friend's eyes. "Er."

Lovino gave him a sarcastic look, but didn't speak.

Then Arthur deflated somewhat, sighing. "I'm sorry. I really am in a bad mood, and I don't know why, and I shouldn't be taking it out on you. This desk business is fairly trivial, I know."

"Come here, stupid."

Arthur walked over shyly and didn't look at Lovino until he was standing right in front of him.

The brunet reached out and pulled him in for a comforting hug. He could feel Arthur's tension at first, but then he softened in Lovino's arms and let out a deep breath again, wrapping his arms around his friend. "Don't be in a bad mood," he murmured, finger-combing the scruffy hair. "Let me help you feel better. Tell me, seriously tell me, if there's anything wrong, anything _I've_ done wrong."

Arthur just held him for a little while. "Nh," he eventually muttered. "I know I'm a git."

"No, you're not. Well, not usually." Lovino was amused by this. "Come on. Relax and tell me. Did I do something wrong?" He drew back to look at his friend. Arthur let his arms drop, but stayed standing where he was; Lovino took his hands.

"This has really blown out of proportion," Arthur admitted. "I was cranky today because I was feeling nostalgic about leaving the gallery behind, and then I was pissed off because you didn't want to fool around on the desk – which I know is childish and stupid – and then I got mad because you thought buying the desk would solve the problem – and then – and then – I don't know, I just got more and more upset for no reason."

"You're sure? There's not some deeper reason?"

Arthur was quiet for a long time, confirming Lovino's suspicions. "I – I worry that you're changing too much of your life around because of me, and that you're going to resent it eventually." He said this in a very low tone, almost too low for Lovino to catch, and closed his eyes.

Lovino immediately reached his arms out and drew his friend into another tight embrace. "How – how could you think that of me? Arthur, nobody in the world has ever been as good to me as you are. Has _ever_ meant as much. I could never resent anything that I do because of you." He kept holding Arthur until he felt his friend's arms come up to hold him again, and then he slackened his grip just a little to look at him. "Please, do not distress yourself about this. First of all, I've spent a lot of time thinking about these things, and we've discussed them, and they seemed like the right decision at the time."

"At the time! But what if you –"

Lovino shushed him by placing a finger over his lips. "_If_ I do, it's quite easy to change things around. Businesses come up for sale, houses come up for sale. Things change, and life changes too. Stop fretting about it. They're just _things_. We'll be fine."

"But – your townhouse – you love it so –"

"Arthur," Lovino murmured, cupping his cheek. "It's just a _building_. Yes. I do love it. But aren't we hoping to find a new place to live? I – I expect that whatever home we make together, I'll – I'll – I'll love it even more." He felt the telltale blush spreading and looked down, but kept his hand on Arthur's cheek. "You don't need to worry about that at all."

Arthur hugged him. "I don't deserve you."

"Now you're being stupid again," Lovino laughed weakly, and Arthur looked up at him with a smile in his tired eyes. "I think we deserve each other…don't you? We've both been through some bad shit. I think we definitely deserve to be happy together." He leaned forward and kissed Arthur softly on the lips. "Please don't worry. We'll be fine, together."

Arthur nodded, still holding him. "I – most of the time I believe that's true, but then I worry so much…"

"Don't. And – and if you do, then _tell me._ Yes? You shouldn't have to suffer with these kinds of thoughts, not when you can share them with me and we can talk about it."

"Yes." Arthur rested his forehead on Lovino's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was important to you to talk about it, right? So don't be sorry." Lovino leaned forward again and kissed his hair. "Are you all right now? Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"No. I'm – I'm fine, now. Thank you." He smiled at his friend, still looking very drained.

"Let's go home," Lovino suggested. "We – we can come back tomorrow, you know, and…say our farewells? We don't actually turn ownership over to Williams until Monday morning, remember."

"Yes. I don't think I'm quite in the right mood for it, just now. Let's just go home and relax."

"Come on, bastard." Lovino hopped off the desk, scooping up his jacket, and took Arthur's hand to lead him back home.


	57. Avenue in Schloss Kammer Park

**Avenue in Schloss Kammer Park.** (Gustav Klimt, oil on canvas, 1912)

"Ow."

"Well, it's your own fault, git."

"It's not my fault!"

"It's your bloody sofa, your house, your decision to ship it over here. Not my fault you keep knocking into it." Arthur was lying on the former parlor sofa in his underwear the next morning, browsing the local real estate ads on Lovino's laptop. Lovino, in t-shirt and jeans, was trying to bring their coffee out, but had barked his shin on the intrusive sofa for the third time this morning.

"Ow," he moaned again.

"Quit moaning and give me my coffee." Arthur held out a hand for the cup without looking up.

"Did you find anything yet, demanding bastard?" Lovino managed to get the cup into Arthur's hand, and then sat on the floor next to him with his own cup, peering at the screen.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Still in the kitchen. If you think I'm getting up and navigating past this sofa again –"

"Fine, whatever. Let me know if you want me to magnify the screen."

"Bastard. I'm not a fucking senior citizen." Lovino punched him.

"Whatever, git. I'm looking at the listings, but the thing is, I don't really know _where_ to look. Where the best place is. It's kind of stupid for us to be looking online before we figure out what we want."

"Fine. Let's make a list."

Arthur opened a blank document and sat up a little more so he could type better. "Shoot."

"Big. Big house."

"Big garage, right? For all the sexy cars we're going to have?" Arthur grinned at him and drank some coffee before typing.

"Well, it doesn't have to have a big garage, if we're going to buy a place with a lot of land. We could build a garage."

"_Do_ we want a place with a lot of land?"

"I thought that was what you wanted? A place in the country, big dogs, all that?"

"Oh. Well, that was just a – a fantasy I had. Doesn't have to be that. You know I'd be happy living in a tent with you."

"Cheh, yeah, until a bear came and attacked us. You'd be off for the city like a shot."

Arthur smirked at him. "Right behind you, probably."

"Maybe." Lovino drank some coffee.

"Besides, I've never actually owned a dog. I'm not really sure I'd want the reality of one."

Lovino laughed. "Good; that was the part that worried me the most!"

"Do we want a place with a fireplace?"

"Are you some kind of idiot? Cheh, you must be." Lovino shook his head as if he couldn't believe he was hearing that. "You're a complete moron if you think we're getting a house without a fireplace. You've made me addicted to lying in front of the fire with you."

Arthur smiled. "Oh. Good."

"Moron."

"Shut it. But – there's something else worrying me."

"Of course there is." Lovino sighed. "What is it this time?"

Arthur chose to ignore the tone of this somewhat autocratic comment. "Well, you know…now that I'm, er, unemployed, we talked about doing stuff like traveling on a whim, or whatever?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you serious about that?"

"Yes! Why, don't you like the idea?"

"I _love_ the idea. But – it would be somewhat stupid – er –"

Lovino sighed again. "How would it be stupid, bastard?"

"No, I mean maybe it would be stupid to buy a big place in the country if we were going to go traveling all the time. It would require a lot of maintenance and upkeep. Plus it might be a pain to haul ourselves to the airport all the time, from a country place. Maybe we should look for something in the city, condo or something, but bigger than this." He gestured to the townhouse's interior.

"But what about your country fantasy?"

"Eh, I told you, it's not that big a deal, it was just a fantasy. We could – well, maybe we could stay at country hotels when we travel, sometimes?" Arthur turned a very cute face to Lovino, who reached up and ruffled his hair.

"Whatever you like, bastard. Whatever. But also, I can hire a caretaker to come look after the place while we're traveling, if we decide we want a country place."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that."

"But I admit I do prefer the city to most of the countryside places around here."

"So – we should look in the city, if that's what you prefer."

"Either way. You tell me."

Arthur thought about this. "Well – I'm certainly accustomed to the city, but this is where I get confused. Should we look in the actual District? Or in Virginia or Maryland?"

"Let's look in the District for now, and if we figure out later that we want a country place, then we can look at country places. It's unlikely that I'm going to find a place I love right away. I'm a bit picky about real estate."

"You're picky about everything." Arthur took his hand and kissed it. "Except me."

"Cheh. Nothing to be picky about with you, stupid. So shut up and look at the listings. Georgetown would be nice. There are some really classy places there."

"But – what about the cars and the motorcycle?"

"Dammit. Well, we can figure something out. Maybe we should buy two condos in the same complex, one to live in and one for an office/workroom kind of thing? Then we could get four parking spaces."

"That sounds ridiculously extravagant."

"Fun, though, bastard, you have to admit. Decorate one modern, one classic."

"Yes," Arthur mused. "Then when we had a fight, one of us could go stay in the other condo."

Lovino punched him. "Don't start any fights with me."

"Whatever you say, boss."

Lovino punched him again. "Stop calling me _boss_, all right? You sound like some kind of – of _henchman_."

Arthur started laughing again. "Yes – er – master."

"Shut up!" A third punch landed on his arm.

"Ow! Stop punching me, git, or I will start a fight!" He reached his hand over and violently messed up Lovino's hair.

"Stop that, dammit, you know I hate it." Lovino fixed his hair.

"Truce?"

"Cheh, yes, fine, whatever. Let's get back to the discussion."

"Well, why don't we just go wander around Georgetown today? See what we see? It's a nice day for it."

"I thought we were going back to the gallery to – uh – you know?" Lovino rubbed his hand over his face.

"Oh, right. Mm. Yes. Well, gallery first, or gallery last?"

"Gallery last."

"Fine. I don't mind at all. I need to get home, though, and change. I'm not going out in a suit all day."

"Sloppy bastard. Finish your coffee, get dressed, and we'll go."

"Can we take the Jaguar? Will you let me drive?" Arthur got up off the couch and gave Lovino an exceedingly begging type of look.

"No, bastard, I'm sorry; even that ridiculous expression is not going to make me say yes. I don't mind you driving the Spitfire but I'm still not ready to let anybody else handle that Jag yet. I – I'll let you know, when I'm ready. Promise. All right?"

Arthur's face changed to a pout. "Yes, all right, wanker. Then should we take the train?"

"Might as well. Hurry up."

"Yes, boss…oops."

…

_I've been looking at Georgetown condo listings, just to get a visual idea in my head of where they'll be looking. There are some nice condos currently for sale…but they're right around the corner from the German embassy! I don't know if poor Lovi could handle that. Stay tuned._

_"Henchman" is the word of the day from Merriam-Webster. _


	58. Composition with Skull

**Composition with Skull.** (Pablo Picasso, oil on canvas, 1908)

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to – to, uh, seduce me," Lovino blushed, rubbing his face, "or do you just want me to get naked and hop on the damn desk?" He tried to laugh.

Arthur reached out to pull him close. "Let me seduce you," he murmured, firmly pressing his palms against Lovino's back. "Let me show you how strongly I desire you…" He ran his lips over the curve of Lovino's ear as he spoke, lowering his voice. "Let me persuade you that making love on that desk is the best idea you've ever heard in your entire life." He moved a finger to Lovino's mouth, lightly stroking his lips, now gently kissing him, brushing the hair away from his face, softly tickling his fingers through it, pressing their bodies closer.

"Uh. I – " Lovino interrupted himself and tried to kiss Arthur a little more fervently, but the blond did not allow it.

"Let me _persuade _ you," he suggested again, with a secretive smile. "Come over and sit on the desk." He led his red-faced friend to the desk, seating him, coming to stand between his knees. Arthur slipped his spread fingers into Lovino's hair to draw him closer, getting more passionate with his kissing. After a moment he took his hands away and pulled the hem of Lovino's shirt out of his jeans, sliding his hands up and down, cool palms against the muscles of his friend's warm back.

He felt warm hands under his own t-shirt, caressing his chest lightly, stroking his sides. Arthur let go so he could take Lovino's shirt off; it fell on the floor and they both ignored it. He allowed Lovino to remove his t-shirt, then pressed close against him once more, a stronger embrace, more demanding kisses, as he danced his fingertips teasingly over the intricate design that adorned his friend's shoulder blades.

"Persuade me a little more," Lovino breathed against his mouth. Arthur needed no further urging. He began licking his friend's lips while he fumbled with his belt buckle, managing to undo it with just a little trouble. After he'd unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, Arthur slid one hand down the back of the loosened waistband, using the other arm to encircle Lovino more firmly, still slowly kissing and licking his hot, delicious mouth.

Lovino had been holding Arthur with both arms, but now let go in order to open Arthur's button and zipper, more boldly slipping both of his hands down the back of his pants, spreading his fingers wide to rub them up and down rhythmically.

"Who's persuading whom?" Arthur laughed, bringing both his hands up into the soft dark hair again.

"Nh. Does it matter anymore?" Lovino, his voice a deeper growl, took his hands and lay back on the desk, trying to draw Arthur down on top of him.

"Not in the least," the blond said huskily, letting go so he could remove his friend's jeans. _Oh_…Lovino wasn't wearing underwear…Arthur felt his breath catch and hastily shucked off the rest of his own clothes. "I'm going to make you feel _so damned good_ today." He bent to kiss the koi design, as a sort of appetizer…

"Show me," Lovino begged, lacing his fingers into Arthur's hair.

So he did.

…

"I want to apologize," Arthur said quietly, later, when they were relaxing on top of the desk. "You did the right thing."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Buying this desk. If we'd done this and you hadn't bought the desk, I'd feel _bloody_ sorry to say goodbye to it!"

"I like the way your mind works, bastard." He lifted his friend's hand and kissed his fingers.

"My mind is telling me we ought to get out of here."

"Why? What about the afterglow?"

"If I wake up with a sore back from sleeping on this desk, there won't be any afterglow, just complaints. Come on, let's go home or something."

"Mm, yes, let's. Let's take a cab, though; I don't feel like messing around with the metro. I have something I want to talk to you about, and something I want to show you." They dressed themselves and left the gallery, locking it behind them for the last time with a fond glance and a shared smile.

…

"Show me what you want to show me." Arthur flopped onto the parlor sofa.

"Hold on." Lovino left the room and came back with his sketchbook. "This is what I was working on all day yesterday when you wouldn't interrupt me." He opened it and handed it to Arthur.

The blond began laughing wildly. "This is wonderful! I love it. What made you think of it? No, wait. Before you answer that…tell me the artist's name that did that painting."

"Isn't it signed? I – uh, I can't really remember, because I didn't like the guy much. It was either Bonnefoy or Malfoy. That was around the time I started learning French, and I remember making word play between 'bon' and 'mal' in my mind, but I can't remember which the real name was. I was just a little kid, remember."

"All right, well, let's pretend it was Bonnefoy, all right? I'm sick of calling it the fake Gainsborough. Anyway, what made you sketch this? It's great! You're really improving a lot, plus, this is adorable." Lovino had tried to recreate the painting of himself as a youth, but instead of the artist's big black dog, he'd sketched his adult self hugging a big pale dog with dark, Arthur-style eyebrows. The blond smiled at it, then back at Lovino. "You said there was something else you needed to talk to me about?"

"Um. Yes. But – before I get to that – would you like to take a bath with me?"

"Mm. Of course." They went up to the gigantic old bathtub to relax together.

"So…" Lovino looked off to the side of the bathroom. He and Arthur were facing each other in the tub, and Arthur had his toes on Lovino's hipbones, wiggling them occasionally, which was pretty distracting. He forced himself to focus. "Sketchbook" was all he could get out of his mouth, though.

"What?"

"Stop wiggling your toes. I can't think straight."

Arthur smirked at him, but stopped. "Sorry."

"No, you're not. Anyway, you remember that stupid business with the sketchbooks. Back then."

"Yes."

"Did you – did you ever look in your sketchbook?"

"What do you mean? I look in it all the time."

Lovino shook his head. "No, I mean, did you ever see what I'd drawn in it?" He knew he was red, but hoped Arthur would attribute that to the warm bath water and not his embarrassment.

"Er. Actually, I didn't. I was so upset about that whole business that I just stuck that one onto a shelf and started a new one."

"Huh."

"Huh what? What did you draw?"

"No, uh-uh. Not telling you."

"Don't be cagey about it. Tell me."

Lovino rubbed a wet hand through his hair. "Chigi! No. You can look at it when you get back to your place. Just – just – well, just look at it."

"I don't have to look at it, if it's going to disturb you this much?"

"Argh. Look or don't look, I don't care anymore. I just wondered what you'd thought of it, but since you didn't even look at it, it doesn't really matter."

"Fine. Can I wiggle my toes again now?" Arthur grinned at him.

"Yes, yes, dammit. Do whatever you want."

The blond raised his eyebrows. "Now that's what I like to hear." He leaned forward, scrambling around so that he ended up snug against Lovino's front, face to face, toes tangling together under the water. "Really whatever I want?" He slipped a wet arm around his friend's neck.

Lovino laughed at him. "Really whatever you want, horny bastard."

"Might be a long night."

"I can take it."

"I _know_."

"Dammit, just shut up and do something, before I turn into a prune."

Mm. Arthur was a very persuasive bastard, today.


	59. Combat of Love and Chastity

**Combat of Love and Chastity. **(Pietro Perugino, tempera on panel, 1505)

Arthur turned off his cell phone and walked into the front door of the gallery – a strange feeling, that, after having used only using the back entrance for so long. He spared a moment to daydream, looking at the subtle changes this new owner had made, checking out with a chuckle the new (modern, utilitarian, and completely uncomfortable-looking) desk in the front. He was here to interview with Mr. Williams for the job of gallery manager. Obviously he had no plans to come back to work here, but he'd had nothing better to do today. Arthur had been curious to see the place, to meet the man who'd bought it, and for a grin, find out just how much this chap was willing to offer him as a salary. He wandered the space, wondering why no one had come to greet him, checking to see if any of his own paintings were on display, and then heard footsteps behind him. Arthur turned.

_Alfred_ walked out of the back office? He panicked, flashing back to that very bad (very _good_) day. No, not Alfred, he realized, willing himself to calm down. But enough like him that it brought back a rush of distracting memories about his life before Lovino, a sudden glut of recollections that he didn't have leisure or desire to examine right now.

"Mr. Kirkland, I presume?" the man asked in a soft voice. Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and the man came to shake his hand. "My name is Matthew Williams; I'm the new gallery owner." His hand was softer and more slender than Alfred's –

Arthur jolted himself back to the moment. "Forgive me, I'm a little – er – distracted by being here again. How do you do?"

"I'm fine, thank you. You and Mr. Vargas have amassed a striking collection of works here. I'm almost tempted to keep most of them for my own private use," he smiled.

"Mr. – Mr. Vargas did most of the collecting himself," Arthur admitted. Not strictly true – he'd relied on the expertise of the gallery owners in Europe to notify him of new acquisitions, of anything that might sell well here. He now wondered how Williams planned to source things, wondered whether Lovino had sold the list of dealers along with the client list.

Williams led him to the back office. Arthur got sidetracked again, glancing up as always to see the portrait of young Lovino; an allegorical painting hung there now. The owner invited him to sit in the client chair. Arthur's mind was a confused muddle by this point, with memories of both Alfred and Lovino fighting for dominance while he also tried to attend to Williams and the interview.

He forced himself to focus again. Williams' request was simple – come back to work here, the same job, same hours. He also suggested Arthur might travel a few times a year to source new artworks for him. Williams then asked about salary requirements. Arthur, who was not taking this interview seriously in any case, arbitrarily doubled the number Lovino had been paying him.

Williams agreed so quickly that Arthur wished he'd tripled it, before remembering that he wasn't going to reenter the job market in any case. He asked the young man for a week in which to consider the offer.

They discussed the gallery's performance during Lovino's tenure as owner, and then halfheartedly talked about some other art trends before Williams stood to conclude the interview.

"Forgive me if I seem preoccupied," Arthur then confessed, as they walked back into the front. "You – you remind me very much of someone I know."

Williams broke into a big smile. "Perhaps it's my twin brother? Alfred Jones?"

_Bugger._ Arthur turned bright red and backed away from the man. He must have gotten a really strange look on his face, because Williams' expression changed to one of concern. "Mr. Kirkland? Are you all –"

Arthur shook his head and tried to focus again. "I'm sorry. Er – er – yes, Alfred is the person I was thinking of. He – we – er – " No, he couldn't talk about Alfred to a complete stranger, even if they were twin brothers. (Alfred had a _twin brother?) _"Never mind. Thank you for – for your generous offer of employment. I'll get back to you by the end of the week."

"Thank you," Mr. Williams said, shaking his hand again. "I appreciate your willingness to consider the offer."

Arthur smiled nervously at him and left the gallery in haste, practically running to the metro station. Bollocks.

…

He rode the train, slumped into a corner seat, for a long time, not paying attention to his surroundings or the ebb and flow of travelers around him. It had been easy – or so he'd thought at the time – to put Alfred right out of his head, because of the blossoming of his new relationship with Lovino. But perhaps he should have taken more time to think about his old boyfriend, to process his memories and make sure they wouldn't trouble him. Old recollections, both problematic and joyous, swirled around his consciousness for hours as he rode in silence, frowning at the floor of the train.

The dark bird had been brutal, but cathartic, for him to paint. By the time he'd completed it, Arthur had known he was over the handsome blue-eyed blond, and that hadn't changed when Alfred had returned to the gallery that day last winter. But here on the train, he tried to objectively consider things from the day they'd met – both instantly smitten, he'd thought, eyes meeting across a crowded room in a parody of a romance movie – through their crazy London summer together, Arthur's whimsical decision to move to Washington, and the brief but breathtaking months they'd had here before the wanker had run off.

That was the kicker, of course. If Alfred had simply broken up with him, well, he might have still harbored feelings for him. That was one of the things Arthur had always been susceptible to, mooning around over failed relationships.

But his relationship with Alfred had been a failure of epic proportions. The git had run away – to California, the _other side of the bloody country!_ – without telling him until he'd reached his destination. And then he'd dropped off the radar for two full years. No, there was nothing in Alfred's behavior that warranted a second glance. Good looks weren't enough for Arthur, not anymore, not now that he had such a fulfilling life with Lovino.

Then he made himself think about that, as objectively as possible, and concluded (as he'd known already) that the slender, elegant Lovino was much better-looking than sodding corn-fed Alfred, anyway, and a much more considerate lover, too.

Arthur got sidetracked for a little while, daydreaming about that.

When he floated back to awareness, he started thinking about Lovino in earnest. Every day was an adventure with him! New and dramatic things to do, new feelings to explore…his friend was everything he'd ever wanted in a partner (saving perhaps the short temper). As he rode the noisy train, he tried to come up with ways to put Lovino more at ease, to make him appreciate Arthur more, to be stronger and take on more of Lovino's burdens himself.

He was jolted out of this reverie by a large family carrying a lot of luggage, hemming him in and making him claustrophobic. Still somewhat abstracted, Arthur decided to get off the train; he surged up to street level with the rest of the crowd.

It was _dark_! Had he really been wallowing in memories for that long? He'd left Williams at three. Arthur checked his watch and it was near ten o'clock at night. And he'd gotten off the train at a station in Maryland, nowhere near his apartment. He turned with a snort of self-disgust and headed back down to the tracks.

It wasn't until he'd been re-seated that he forced his mind back to today's confusion and realized that Alfred hadn't figured much in his thoughts at all. Most of his focus had been on Lovino and how to make their relationship even better. Had he been doing this to _avoid_ thinking of Alfred?

Arthur didn't think so. He tried to focus on bloody Alfred again. Couldn't. It was just as well, he supposed. Proved the git was out of his heart entirely. He promised himself that if he ever ran into Alfred again, he'd deal with it in a mature manner and not end up shouting and struggling with him like he had that day in front of Lovino. That memory made Arthur feel stupid, and he put his head in his hands; then he remembered how supportive Lovino had been, and how that day had turned out, and realized that maybe it hadn't been such a big deal after all. He smiled.

Well, that settled that. Thinking of Lovino again, Arthur's heart filled with a rush of happiness and he eagerly came out of his reverie, intending to call him as soon as he exited the station. Maybe they could go out somewhere tonight? Maybe he could talk him into going for a moonlit walk somewhere. Somewhere dark, so Arthur could be romantic without making Lovino feel self-conscious. It was probably too late to go out to Great Falls, though.

Then he idly looked at the station name displayed inside the train. "Bollocks!" he yelled, startling the other passengers. He'd gone right past his stop and was back in bloody Maryland again! At this rate he'd end up walking home when the trains stopped running. Sodding Alfred and his sodding memories. Arthur cursed again (this time under his breath) and sat back down, determined now to pay attention to the route.

…

At the Metro Center station he left the train, even though it wasn't the closest to his apartment; he didn't want to risk missing the correct stop again. Out in the cooling summer night, he decided to call Lovino; at least they could talk a little bit while he walked home.

And he'd need to decide how to tell Williams he wasn't taking the blasted gallery job. He snorted as he turned his phone back on. Accepting that interview had been a waste of his time in so many ways.

Hm. A slew of missed calls, all from Lovino. He patiently listened to all the messages while he walked, messages that started out friendly and lazy, growing more frantic as they progressed. In the last message (left only moments before Arthur had turned his phone back on) Lovino had merely cursed and hung up. He wasn't surprised at that.

He stopped walking and dialed Lovino's number.

"Where the hell have you _been_, bastard?" his friend yelled.

"I – I'm sorry. I – well – a lot of things happened to me today, so I got on the metro to ride and think…and I forgot to turn my phone back on."

"Oh…Wh-where are you now?" Lovino's voice became a little more conciliatory.

"Walking past the White House. I – er – got off the metro a little too early."

"Are you all right? You sound a little – a little weird."

"I _feel_ a little weird. I'll be all right. I'm just walking home."

"Bastard, you'll be walking all night! Want me to come pick you up?"

"I – well, I did want to see you tonight, but I got a little – er – carried away; I didn't realize how late it was until I got off the train. But it's really late. You don't have to come out all this way."

"Cheh. Idiot. I wanted to see you too, you know. I'm not just doing this to be altruistic."

"If – if you're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Why would I offer if I didn't want to? Start walking up Connecticut. I bet I can pick you up before you get to Dupont Circle."

"It's a bet, wanker," Arthur laughed, relieved.

"No running!"

"No speeding!"

"I'll bring the Jag; it'll be easier for you to see it in the dark. You – you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, git. Everything is perfectly all right. See you soon."

"Right. Start walking."

…

_Thanks to the epic Ellenthefox, AND Erin, AND Roxy, for comments that inspired an Alfred-related subplot. Stay tuned._


	60. Portrait of Maerten Soolmans

**Portrait of Maerten Soolmans**. (Rembrandt, oil on canvas, 1634)

Lovino drove up Connecticut Avenue with the roof down, looking for his friend. Hah. If the bastard really had managed to get to Dupont Circle first, it'd be a bitch to find him in the crowds, even this late at night. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Where are you?"

"Standing on the corner, wanker. Right in front of you."

Lovino looked up to see Arthur walking towards him, and hung up the phone.

Arthur climbed in and buckled his seat belt. "Thanks for coming to get me. It's good to see you." His voice was subdued, although he didn't look upset, just tired.

"Good to see you too. Where the hell were you all day?"

Instead of answering, Arthur stared off into the distance. "Take me back downtown," he finally said, "if you're not too tired. I want to walk around the monuments with you."

"Mysterious bastard. I don't have a problem with that."

…

"Why this particular area?"

Arthur stepped closer. "It – I knew it was somewhat dark, and there wouldn't be a lot of people around. I was thinking about you all day. Missed you a lot, and wanted to be romantic with you, but I didn't want you to be embarrassed about it." He took Lovino's hand.

Lovino stopped, turned in place, and discovered that it really was exceedingly dark here. There was a little ambient light from the nearby street lamps, but not much. "Ro-romantic in what way?" Surely Arthur didn't mean –

The blond didn't say anything, but wrapped his arms around Lovino, holding him close and taking deep breaths which he then exhaled against the dark hair, ruffling it like a nighttime breeze.

Well – the darkness made it very private. Lovino lifted his arms and embraced him in return.

Arthur pulled him even closer. "I'm – I'm the luckiest man in the world," he muttered.

Lovino's knee-jerk reaction was to agree sarcastically, but he bit his tongue and just kept holding him. Arthur was clearly disturbed by something. He – he wouldn't have brought them all the way out here just for this, not when his own empty apartment had been equally close. Turning his head and planting a surreptitious kiss on the fair hair, he wondered just what had happened to disturb his friend today.

Arthur squeezed him one more time and let go, taking his hand instead. "Will you walk down the path with me?"

"Yes, of course."

As they walked, Arthur haltingly explained what had happened to him that day, beginning with the shock of seeing a double for Alfred and ending with checking his phone messages at the end of the train ride. Throughout, Lovino continued to hold his hand, even though shadowy strangers were on the path here and there. He wanted to show his support, although he couldn't believe the bastard had actually gone to a real interview with Williams. They'd have to have a serious talk about that later. Or…well…maybe it wasn't even worth bothering about.

When Arthur had finished speaking, Lovino thought about what to say. "I'm glad he left you," he blurted out, before considering how this would sound.

But his friend didn't take it the wrong way. "Well, I am too, of course! If he hadn't, I might not be with you." Arthur squeezed his hand again.

"That – that's not what I meant, though. He sounds like a real bastard. From what I saw of him that day, he's pretty high on himself. And – and I don't think that's the kind of man – the kind of person – that could be – be right for you. Support you, and care for you, look out for you. You need someone better."

"I _have_ someone better." Arthur stopped and held him again. "Like I said. I'm the luckiest man in the world, to be with you, Lovino. I – I hope I can be all the things you need me to be, too."

Lovino felt himself blushing, but it was dark; he didn't give a damn. "You are. You have been all those things for me, and more – since – since almost the day we met. I…sometimes I think that _I_ am actually the luckiest man in the world." He gave Arthur a kiss on the cheek, very quickly. "But then I sometimes think _you_ are." He laughed a little; Arthur joined him. That was a relief. He didn't want Arthur stressing about anything, anything at all.

They joined hands again and kept walking. "It's…such a revelation," Arthur told him quietly. "When you're young and full of – er – romantic optimism, I suppose, and you first find someone to be with…you sort of let all that joyous romance out in a big gush. At least I did. Flowers, paintings, physical affection, you name it. I even tried writing poetry, sometimes. And – and half the time…or more…the other person is not thinking that way, or is – is unappreciative of it. Thinks it's sappy, or stupid. And so my heart warns me, 'Don't do those things anymore.' I'm so happy that I can show you those things in my heart without you deriding me, or brushing them off as inconsequential."

Dammit. He didn't even care if it was dark out or not. Lovino threw his arms around Arthur and held him, right in the middle of the path, as tightly as he could. "I know," he finally said, breathless. "I know exactly what you mean, _exactly_ how you feel."

They embraced for another few seconds until someone bumped into them, startling them both. "Th-there's a bench over there," Arthur pointed out. "Let's sit?"

Lovino led him to the bench, where they sat close together. He brought his mouth closer to Arthur's and kissed him, sweetly, in the dark.

"Will you please stay with me tonight?" his friend asked.

"Idiot. You really think I'd say no?" He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, it's a long drive back to my place."

"Git."

He felt Arthur's mouth against his again and smiled. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'm still a little bit nervous about all this public shit, even though it is pretty dark."

"Nervous wanker. Yes, let's go. Er – if you're tired, I could drive?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but…not yet. When I'm ready, I'll give you the keys, all right? But that car's fucking expensive, and old, and there are a lot of loonies around here at night. Even if you were the best driver in the world, I'd be a little nervous out here. At least this way if something happens, I only have myself to blame."

"Oh, all right," Arthur grumbled, standing up and taking his hand. "I'll just have to content myself with that."

"Hey, it's not everybody who gets chauffeured around in a classic car like that."

Arthur sighed. "I guess that will have to do, for now."

They walked together to the car. When they reached the brightly-lit street, Lovino dropped his hand. "Uh."

"It's all right, Lovino. I know how you feel, even if you can't manage to show it."

He rubbed his hand over his face as they got into the car. "Thanks, bastard. Let's go."

"My place is a mess."

"This is news to me?" he laughed.

"Wanker. If I'd known you were coming over, I'd have cleaned it a little."

They navigated their way through the annoying streets of the city. "If I ever see that bastard again, I may kill him."

"Don't bother. He's not worth your time." Arthur held his hand tightly.

"Maybe not, but you are." He felt the strong fingers gripping his and returned the pressure. "I admit I'm freakishly jealous of the bastard."

"Pfft. Don't be. He's – well, he's ancient history now. Let's shut up about him, all right?"

"Yes, all right. What do you want to do tomorrow?" Lovino pulled into the guest space at Arthur's apartment building.

"Supposed to be a nice day. I'll think of something."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands, then."

"Er – I can think of plenty of things for my capable hands to do, but I'd rather do them tonight."

"Sex fiend. Let's go upstairs and fool around in your messy apartment."

"Sounds good to me!"

…


	61. Joseph Awakened by the Angel

**Joseph Awakened by the Angel.** (Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione, etching on laid paper, 1664)

Lovino woke up alone one morning, surprised, before remembering he'd dropped Arthur off at his apartment after an exhausting day at Kings Dominion. His friend had wanted time alone to work on some paintings; Lovino had no problem with this, although he did keep pointing out how stupid it was for Arthur to keep paying rent. This was another reason he was so intent on the new home search.

Pacing around the house, getting dressed, brushing teeth, he wondered whether he had enough room here for all Arthur's things. Yes, it would be cramped, but what the hell, it was already pretty fucking cramped with all that furniture downstairs. He'd mention this to Arthur later. At least that way they'd be saving the rent money, and they'd be together. He hated having to meet up somewhere every time they wanted to do something together.

Lovino made himself some espresso and maneuvered his way around the stupid desk to open the curtains. It was only eight o'clock, but some idiot was outside hammering something, quite close to his home. Dammit. Didn't people understand how annoying that was? He didn't usually get involved in this sort of thing, but he was feeling irritable because of the home search failure and the bloody furniture taking over his house. Then he grimaced because he'd thought the word "bloody." Annoyed, he shoved his feet into shoes and went outside with his coffee, spoiling for a fight.

Ah. The hammering had stopped. A slim young man had been hammering in a real estate sign for the townhouse next door, which was the end unit. This was the one thing that had always bothered Lovino about his home, that he'd not been able to buy the end unit at the time; he'd disliked the idea of being wedged between two neighbors. He waved briefly at the man, presumably the real estate agent, who was putting his hammer back into the trunk of his car. Lovino took a deep breath, trying to calm down, enjoying the early autumn air before turning to go back inside.

He was halfway up the steps before it hit him. He turned and ran back down the steps to the agent, who was about to leave. "Hey!"

The agent stopped. "Yes? I hope I didn't bother you with my hammering."

"No, no, that's not it. This place is for sale?"

The man simply smiled and pointed to the sign. Lovino scrubbed his free hand through his hair. "Yes, I understand, dammit. How much?"

The agent, blinking in surprise, named a price. It was lower than Lovino would have expected. Perhaps it needed work? He asked about this.

"Perhaps redecorating, but nothing structural or mechanical. The owner has moved out of the area and wants to unload it quickly."

Lovino thought hurriedly. "How soon can I go through it? I've been – been interested in that one for a long time." This would be _perfect._ Uh – but Arthur ought to go through it with him. He didn't want to be domineering and make these kinds of decisions all on his own.

"I could take you through now," the agent suggested. "The owner's not home at the moment."

"No, dammit, that won't work; I need to get my – uh – associate over here to look at it, and he lives in the District. Could we go through later today?"

"Sure." The man, Mr. Laurinaitis, introduced himself; Lovino did the same, and they made arrangements to meet back here at eleven to view the townhouse.

"Thanks," Lovino said, shaking his hand. "If this works out – well – we'll see you at eleven."

"Right; I'll be back!" Laurinaitis climbed into his BMW and drove off.

Lovino stood in thought for a moment and realized he'd need to get Arthur moving, to be back here by eleven. Dammit, the bastard was probably still asleep! It was only eight-thirty. He'd sleep until noon if nothing woke him, Lovino knew. Well, he could call him, or he could go over there. What the hell. He'd have to kill some time before eleven anyway. He ran inside to grab his wallet and keys before locking up and going to wake Arthur up.

…

Lovino cursed to himself, struggling with the spare key to get into Arthur's apartment. Spare keys never worked right. He slipped inside quietly – just in case his friend was still asleep, even though it was nine by now – and when he didn't see or hear any movement, stealthily crept towards the bedroom.

For a brief moment of panic he wondered what he'd do if someone else was in the bed with Arthur. He almost turned and fled, before steeling himself, taking a deep breath and going in. Arthur wasn't like that, he knew. He _hoped._

Ah. The bastard was still snoozing – alone. Lovino let all his breath out in a big rush. He tiptoed over to the edge of the bed, feeling stupid about that fear; he should have known Arthur wasn't like that. Well – he _did_ know, really. He eyed his friend with a fond smile and bent down to kiss him softly awake.

"Mm. Good morning," Arthur murmured, stretching and smiling. Then: "Why are you all dressed? Wait, what are you even doing here? What time is it?" He sat up and looked around in a panic.

Lovino laughed and sat on the side of the bed. "Wake up."

"I'm awake! I'm awake! What's the matter?"

"Will you calm down, bastard? Nothing's wrong; we just have to get back to my place by eleven."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Just – just leisurely wake yourself up, all right? No rush. I'll take you out to breakfast and explain." Lovino kissed his forehead. "Try to comb your hair, too."

"Git. I comb it every day."

"Right."

…

It was only ten-thirty but both of them were pacing, as well as they could, around Lovino's crowded living room, taking turns peeking out the window for the agent. "This would be _perfect_, dammit," Lovino repeated for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Will you kindly shut it?" Arthur replied on cue. "Don't get your hopes up. Given the price, I think there must be something wrong with it."

"I know; that's worrying me, too, but he said there wasn't. Oh! Here he is, come on, bastard." They scurried out the front door to intercept Mr. Laurinaitis. Lovino introduced Arthur and the three of them went inside to view the home.

Somehow the residents had managed to move out without Lovino being aware of it; he was a little annoyed at that, because he felt like he'd been wasting time when they could have been considering the purchase. But as they walked through the empty home, he recognized a sinking feeling in his stomach and realized (no matter how _perfect_ this location would have been) that this place was just not classy enough. His own townhouse he'd decorated elegantly, slowly changing and adding items over the past few years, and it was beautiful inside. Well, except for the fucking desk and sofa! But this place was very bland. It appeared as though it had been renovated in the 1960s and never touched after that.

Arthur was looking rather skeptical as well.

They continued the tour. At the end, Lovino tried to be polite and maintain his professional demeanor when thanking Laurinaitis. Arthur, too, was friendly and sounded optimistic. Lovino hoped that was all an act. He didn't want to buy this townhouse, and he was getting even more pissed off about the whole thing. Maybe they _should_ go live in a fucking tent somewhere.

"Please contact me if you want to view it again," Laurinaitis said, handing them each a business card before driving off. Arthur waved as he pulled away.

"Dammit."

"You didn't like it?"

"Did you, bastard?"

"No! I mean – well – well, no, I really didn't. It was boring. I think your place has spoiled me." They shared a grin as they walked back into Lovino's house; both grins faded as they saw the obstructions again.

"Good. I didn't like it either. Dammit, I really thought that would be perfect."

"Yes, I think you made that abundantly clear. Er –"

"Yes? Come sit on the damn sofa."

They sat on the damn sofa.

"So, 'er' what, bastard?"

"Is there some reason we're _not_ looking at places in Alexandria? Other townhouses, bigger or with garages or something?"

Lovino suddenly felt like an idiot. "Uh." He ran his hand over his face.

"Do you mean 'uh, it never occurred to me'?" Arthur snarked.

"Yes, dammit, that's what I meant." He punched the arm of the sofa.

"Don't be grouchy, loverboy. Get me the laptop. It's the weekend; maybe there are some open houses we can go to?"

Instead of fetching the laptop, Lovino leaned over and hugged him. "Thanks for not being a bastard about it, uh, bastard," he said, and then felt stupid about that and let go.

But Arthur just laughed a little and squeezed his hand. "Go get the laptop."

He immediately found a townhouse they sort of liked the looks of – elegant, although still somewhat small. It was a waterfront property, which excited Arthur a lot, remembering what Lovino had said about rivers and oceans making him feel peaceful. Lovino shrugged, but he was kind of interested too.

"The kitchen's sort of outdated, though. I want a nice kitchen to cook in."

"Could we renovate?" Arthur asked absently, still looking at the listing.

"Bastard!"

"What?"

"Why are you so fucking _brilliant?_ I would never have even thought of that." Lovino grabbed him for a strong, appreciative kiss.

"See? It's a good thing you have me," Arthur pointed out.

"It's a damn good thing," Lovino said, closing the laptop and kissing him again.

…

_I'm almost having more fun researching potential houses than I am writing the story. _


	62. The Large Trees

_Just for you, Scarlet daydreamer._

…

**The Large Trees.** (Georges Braque, oil on canvas mounted on composition board, 1907)

"Dammit."

"Now what?"

Once again Arthur was browsing the online real estate listings; Lovino was sitting at the big desk, trying to sketch something. "I hate this. I get something good sketched, and then suddenly I get an idea for something I should have done first, like a background or something. But I can't put it in there very well." He was trying to draw some of the things they'd seen and done at Kings Dominion last week, but wasn't very happy with it.

"Spend more time thinking about it before you start."

"Some help you are." Lovino got up and paced a little. "Want some tea or something?"

"Sure, if you're making it. Thanks."

"Did you find any good places?" Lovino called from the kitchen.

"Eh, a couple of nice condos in Georgetown. Three of them are in the same building, but it's – er – right near the German embassy." Arthur started laughing.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Forget it! Any other embassy, maybe, but…not the potato embassy."

"I figured that. There are two others, two in the same building, but…I'm not sure you'd like them."

"Why? Why not?" Lovino came back in with tea for Arthur and coffee for himself. He sat on the floor next to the sofa.

"They're newer, more modern."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Oh." Arthur looked surprised. "This place is so traditional, so historic; I thought you'd prefer older buildings, older styles, that's all. Maybe not older buildings, but I definitely didn't think you'd go for the modern stuff."

"Show me."

Arthur pulled up the first listing. "This one's on the ground floor, so – if we really did want to buy two condos, this would probably be better for our office one. I wouldn't want ground-floor people walking by and peeking in at us in our home."

"Well, we'd have curtains up, but I don't want to live on the ground floor anyway. Too much chance of a break-in." Lovino watched the online virtual tour for this condo. "That's actually a very interesting design. Mark it down. Maybe later we can go walk around the area?"

"Fine with me. Here's the other one. It doesn't have as many pictures, but it ought to be somewhat similar. This one is on the top floor, same building."

"That's nice. But – ugh! No, wait, we can't live there. Look at the map. Way too much traffic. You know how noisy that would be?"

Arthur looked at the map. "Probably not too noisy, if we're on the top floor."

"Well, that's possibly true, but also, it's going to be a bitch driving around there, with all that traffic. Bad resale, too. Scrap those."

"You know a lot about this stuff! Things I would never have thought to consider. Resale value, traffic, break-ins…"

"Yes, well, it's how I was raised, it's the business end of things, the long-term shit. Let's keep looking. Show me the ones near the embassy." He snorted.

"Here. This one, and then apparently the one right below it, too, which is identical in layout."

"These are pretty nice, actually," Lovino forced himself to say after looking at the pictures. "And the area is much better. Why don't we go take a look around there today? We can make an appointment to see them next week if we like them."

Arthur reached out a hand and felt Lovino's forehead. "Are you all right?" he grinned.

His friend smacked his hand away. "Stop that. It's completely trivial that it's near the German embassy, all right? _Completely_ trivial." He got up and went back to his sketchbook. "Dammit."

"Dammit what?" Arthur made a note of the address and closed up the laptop.

"Dammit, this stupid sketch! It's very frustrating."

"Well, forget about it for now, and let's go wander around the potato places."

This made Lovino laugh, and he forgot all about his stupid sketch. "Let's take the Jaguar. It's a nice day."

"Er – nh, forget it."

"Someday I'll let you drive it, bastard. I promise."

…

"You know, I just thought of something that might help you out. With your frustrating sketches."

"Art lessons? Ha. Only if you're going to teach me."

"No. I'd be a terrible teacher, anyway; I have no patience."

"You're _joking._" Lovino stared at him.

"What are you staring at, git?"

"You have enormous patience. Either that or you're a fucking liar."

"What are you talking about_?_"

Lovino turned red and rubbed his hand over his face before speaking in a low tone. "You said you…uh…wanted me…since the…day of the diner painting. But you – you waited for me. Almost a whole year! You have a ton of patience." He looked away.

"I wish I could hug you in public, Lovino. Of course I waited. I didn't want to scare you off. You were well worth waiting for." When his red-faced friend looked back hesitantly, Arthur grinned at him. "And then, too, I didn't want to lose my job for putting the moves on my boss!" He burst into laughter and Lovino punched him in the arm. "Ow."

"You can hug me later, all right? I promise."

"Not sure I want to, if you're going to keep beating me up."

"Bastard. Focus on checking out this area. Oh – but what were you going to say about my sketching?"

"Right. You distracted me. I thought maybe you'd enjoy making digital art."

"What? What the hell's digital art?"

"Using a pen tablet or touchscreen to do art on the computer. You can correct mistakes a lot more easily, from what I understand."

"Huh. Have you ever tried it?"

"No. I don't have a computer, for one thing, and also, I enjoy the tactile process of working with the paints. But it might be good for you."

Lovino stared at him again. "You don't have a computer? How did I never realize this?"

"I don't know. I just never needed one. I use my cell phone if I'm desperate for online stuff, or I used to use the gallery computer. Now I use your laptop."

"That – that actually floors me. I can't believe anyone could get away with that in this day and age."

"Yes, well, I suppose I'm a Luddite at heart."

"That reminds me, the German embassy's right around the corner." This made Arthur snort. "Where is this condo building, bastard?"

The blond found it and pointed. They wandered around the area for a little while, examining the neighborhood, eventually stopping for lunch.

"Well?" Arthur asked. "I admit it's not really doing it for me."

"Cheh. I agree. I'm glad you said that. Plus now you've got me all interested in this digital art business. Come on, let's go software shopping instead."

"Yes, all right."

…

"Dammit, this all looks interesting and I'm very intrigued, but…_dammit_. I'd need to buy a more robust computer to run it, and I just have no damn place to put one yet."

"Well, take me home and I'll spend tonight looking at more real estate ads."

"Fuck. Maybe we should move to Italy!"

"Are you mad? We can't move there until I know how to speak Italian."

"Bastard. I was just joking. Come on, let's go."

…


	63. Liberty Leading the People

**Liberty Leading the People.** (Eugène Delacroix, oil on canvas, 1830)

"Wake up, snoozy bastard."

"Nn. No."

"Come on."

"Why?"

"Uh – because it's morning? Time for all good men to get out of bed?"

"_Nh._"

"That's not good enough, I'm afraid. Do I have to start tickling you?"

"All right, I'm awake, git!"

"Good. Come over here. Snuggle up with me for a minute. I had an idea I want to talk to you about."

"Mm, Lovino, you're so warm…I have an idea, too, now…ooh, and another one…_lots_ of ideas…"

"Uh. Stop that, dammit. Are you comfortable?"

"Extremely…"

"Do _not_ go back to sleep, bastard!"

"Yes, all right, git. Talk."

"Well. Here we are, two Europeans living in America, right?"

"Wow. You're bloody observant."

"Bastard."

"Come on, kiss me."

"Not yet. Let me finish."

"Wanker. All right, talk, then kiss me, yes?"

"Yes, yes, yes, all right, dammit. Now listen. We keep talking about all these trips we're going to take, et cetera?"

"Er – yes?"

"What I'm wondering is why we're so set on staying in America. Why don't we move back to Europe somewhere? Not – not Italy, since you don't speak the language well enough, yet, but we could move to England, if you like, or if there's anywhere else?"

"You're the sweetest git that ever lived. Mm…yes…deliciously sweet…especially right _here…_oh…"

"Uh. F-focus, please, bastard."

"You know, I can focus on both these things at once. I'm not some kind of idiot."

"No, no, no, stop. Please? Come on; we have all day to fool around, dammit."

"Yes, but we also have all day for your bloody discussion!"

"You know how I get with discussions. Let's just get to a good stopping point. All right?"

"Fine. Well, I don't see why we couldn't move to Europe somewhere. I'm not – er – emotionally attached to America, except insofar as we met each other here. But since you sold the gallery, there's nothing in particular to keep us here."

"That's kind of what I was getting at. The car company and Feli are both in Rome, and there are a shitload of museums and shit there that I want to visit with you – don't snort at me, dammit, you know what I mean – and it seems like a reasonable idea to live somewhere in Europe, since so much of the stuff we want to do is there."

"Except we'd have to ship all the things back, which makes me feel a little stupid."

"Don't worry about that. Shipping is easy. Anyway, all we really need to take is the parlor sofa. Big things, I mean."

"Rubbish. What about the cars, and the gallery desk, and the Ducati?"

"Yes, but that's still not very much."

"Do you _dislike_ America?"

"No. I mean, I did choose to come live here, bastard. Why?"

"Eh, just curious. I'm wondering just how much travel you're thinking of. I mean, are you planning ten trips a year? That seems excessive, and in that case, yes, living in Europe seems much more sensible. But if it's not that much, then maybe we could stay here somewhere? I like this area."

"I do too. There's a lot here we haven't explored together, too. I guess we could go either way."

"Well, let's talk about it…or, you know, mm, we don't even have to talk…"

"Dammit, can't you drag your mind out of the fucking gutter for ten minutes?"

"Fine, you've got ten minutes, starting now. Go."

"You're a total bastard."

"You're wasting your ten minutes, git."

"Argh. If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

"Don't know. Try it and see."

"Ah, no, we'll just get sidetracked. Listen, if we're going to talk about Europe, we need to figure out where we want to be. What country, what city."

"Obviously England is going to be easiest for me, you know. I did study French in school. I'm not bad with the language, but I wasn't that interested in the country when I went for visits."

"I learned French too, but I haven't used it much recently. I've been to Spain, and don't like it much. Except for the tomatoes, which is really not a good reason to move there."

"Fine, then let's just say Spain and France are out of the question."

"Get that nasty twinkle out of your eye, moron. Germany's off limits too, and you know it. If you think I'm going to be stuck eating potatoes and wurst the rest of my life –"

"Wanker. You're no fun."

"Want to bet? Once we're finished with this discussion I'll show you all kinds of fun."

"Why not now?"

"Dammit, first things first! I still have eight minutes."

"Spoilsport. But all right. Let's think. I've been to Austria. That's a beautiful place."

"But they speak German there! Idiot. How – how about Switzerland?"

"Switzerland – well, that could actually be a bloody good idea. I have no objections, anyway. They speak German there, too, though, don't they?"

"Yes, but also French and Italian."

"I've been to Switzerland a few times, but only for short vacations. I can try to deal with it. It's about halfway between England and Italy, too, isn't it? If we move there I can practice my Italian."

"Bastard, I'll help you practice. I can help you work on the proper mouth movements. Come here, let me show you."

"Ha ha. What happened to 'focus'? You have six and a half minutes left, wanker."

"Dammit."

"But – but I don't really know, Lovino, this all seems so hasty."

"It's not like we're going to pack up and move tonight, you know."

"This is part of what's worrying me. How can we find a good property when we don't live over there?"

"I think it will be fine. For one thing, we have the internet. For another thing, I still have a lot of contacts in Europe. Why don't we take a trip next week? We can look at some different cities, and whatever? "

"Mm. Spontaneous European trip. I can deal with that. Next week? I'd better get started on travel arrangements."

"So…this discussion is somewhat settled? We'll stop looking for a place here?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me. At least for now. If it doesn't work out, we can keep looking around here when we get back."

"Good. _Now_ I'm going to show you some Italian mouth movements, and then some other kinds of fun…"

"You still have three minutes! Ow, bollocks, stop hitting me. Put that hand to good use somewhere else. Mm. Oh…oh, yes, that's perfect. _Oh…_"


	64. Surrender of Lord Cornwallis

**Surrender of Lord Cornwallis.** (John Trumbull, oil on canvas, 1820)

"You look disturbed, Arthur. Is anything wrong?"

"Well – well, not _wrong, _exactly." He walked on, hands in his pockets. He and Lovino had been discussing the idea of a European move all afternoon and were now taking a break to walk around and eventually get some lunch.

"I…thought you'd promised to tell me, if something was bothering you?"

Arthur sighed. "The thing is, I can't really tell if it's a problem or not."

"Well, tell me, and we'll see." Lovino was curious now.

"I like your idea of moving back to Europe, but…I'm just – just not quite comfortable with the idea of actually taking that step, yet. I don't understand if it's because of the language, or the possible culture shock, or just the fact that we decided it so quickly. I mean, we might move there and in a few weeks I'd be fine. But what if I wasn't? I don't know how to tell. It just feels like a wrong decision, to me. And I know I'd be too nervous to tell you, if we moved there and I still had a problem." His voice sounded weak; he didn't look at his friend.

"Are you maybe worried because the last time you moved, that bastard left you? Afraid it might – might happen again?" Lovino spoke hesitantly. This had instantly occurred to him, and he was naturally worried that Arthur might still fear that.

But Arthur turned and looked at him with green eyes wide, stopping on the sidewalk. "I – I – I hadn't considered that," he admitted. "I wonder if that could be the reason."

"Well, don't worry about that, idiot."

"I'm not." Well, that was good. "Er – at least I didn't think I was. Maybe my subconscious is."

"Uh, well, I'm probably too selfish to make a good therapist, bastard, but if you want to talk about it when we get home, I'm willing to talk."

"Thanks." They continued walking. "My conscious mind, now, my _conscious_ mind is simply worried that it's too much of a life change, too fast. Even coming to America I didn't need to worry about the language. I'm probably just worrying about that."

But Lovino had just had a sudden idea. "You know, we really don't need to rush things."

"What? I thought you were fed up with all the furniture taking over your house!"

"I was. I am! But we can deal with it. Listen." He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder as they walked. "How – how attached are you to your furniture?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"All right, let me start over. What if you move in with me –"

"But that will be even more—"

"Don't interrupt, all right? Let me finish."

"Fine. But I still think –"

"Arthur!"

The blond laughed. "Yes. I promise. Shutting up now."

Lovino grinned too. "Okay, well, here's the idea. Move in with me, and then at least we don't have to worry about your apartment any more, and we'll be together. Right? You can donate any furniture you don't want; we don't really need any more furniture. There _are_ three bedrooms at my place, and you can have one for a workroom. We can put a lot of shit in storage; that's what I should have done right away, especially with the fucking desk. Then we don't need to rush anything, and you can – can see if you could stand actually living with me. And then we can think about things from there."

Arthur stopped walking again and wrapped his arms around him. "I don't care if you hate me hugging you in public or not. You are so remarkably good to me."

"Cheh." Lovino didn't struggle, but he didn't reciprocate either. "Fine, that's fine, you've made your point, now let go of me, dammit." Arthur let go, grinning at him. "So what do you think? Does that sound like a reasonable idea?"

"Yes, of course it does. I think most of what was panicking me was the fairly hasty decision about Europe. If we take our time, it shouldn't be a problem. Who knows? Maybe we'll end up over there anyway."

"You don't mind moving into my townhouse?"

"No! The only reason I haven't asked about that is because you're always complaining about the furniture that's already there. I didn't want to make it worse…mostly because I didn't want to listen to you continue to bitch about it."

Lovino poked him. "Shut up, bastard. Here's the restaurant. Let's have lunch and then go make plans to move all your shit into my already-crowded place."

"Yes, yes, yes, whatever." Arthur held the door for his friend, who blushed and walked into the restaurant.

…

"Oh, I ran into Gilbert this morning. He wanted to know if we would like to join him and Feliks at some Smithsonian thing. It's an after-hours exhibit about mathematics." The waitress took their orders; Arthur sat back to look around this restaurant, one they'd not previously been to together.

"Ugh."

"Well, yes, I know, but it's apparently rather interactive and interesting. It's not like a date thing, either, just an exhibit open to members. They're serving drinks, so I can't imagine it would be too stuffy."

"Oh, no." Lovino drank some coffee.

"Oh, no, what?"

"Does that bozo get drunk and loud? I'm not sure I'd want to be around him then."

"I've never seen him drunk, so I can't tell you. I can't imagine he'd go overboard. Not at a swanky Smithsonian thing. But he told me to look it up on the website and talk to you about it. He and Feliks are both members, so they can each take a guest."

"Dammit."

"Now what?"

"You mean I'd have to either be a date of the albino freak, or a date of his cross-dressing boyfriend?"

"Wanker." But they both started laughing at that idea. "Think of it as a challenge."

"Cheh, yes, all right. I can deal with it, just for one night. Give the bastard a call. Just – no acting like boyfriends, all right?"

"Yes, I do know. Calm down. I'll call him when we get back to your place."

"Fine, bastard. Fine. And then we've got to cancel your lease, call the movers, and all that shit." Lovino ran his hand through his hair, fixing it absently.

"You're right, though; I don't really need all that furniture. Most of it was just stuff I bought to fill in the space; it looked so bare. Do you know how I could sell it, or donate it?"

"Cheh, don't bother selling it. Call the Salvation Army; they'll come take it away. Just make sure you get a tax donation receipt. Give them everything they'll take, that you don't want. Then the movers won't have to deal with so much."

"Got it, chief."

"Dammit, will you stop with that shit?" Lovino scowled.

The waitress arrived with their food before Arthur could respond. When she'd deposited the plates and gone, he smiled. "Well…you act so dictatorial sometimes, I don't know what else to call you. You said I had to stop calling you 'boss.'"

"Yes. Dammit, why can't you just call me by my name?"

"Whatever you say…_Lovino_." Arthur smirked at him. "But – but I thought you didn't really like your name?"

"Bit too late to do anything about it now. Anyway, never mind about that, forget about my fucking name. There's something we haven't talked about in a long time, that I keep meaning to bring up. "

"Uh-oh. Now what?"

"Don't be stupid. You need to get to work designing tattoos for us, that's all."

"Oh. I admit I haven't been thinking about that very often, either. You need to tell me what you like, what kind of designs."

"Can't you tell? You've seen them enough." Lovino blushed.

Arthur blushed too. "You – you know what I mean. You should probably tell me where you're going to get your next one done. Then I can, you know, work out the contours of your muscles, and things." He licked his lips absently; Lovino scrubbed his hand over his face.

"Shut up about it, all right, bastard? Let's talk about it later."

"Yes, fine, uptight git. You started it. Once I get moved in, I'll start working on the designs. Do you – er – do you want to get, er, matching ones?" He immediately felt stupid and covered his face. "No. Forget I said that, please."

"But that's a really great idea. Maybe not get them in the same place – I don't want to look like a pair of fucking twins –"

"Right, I'm a blond Englishman and you're a dark Italian –"

"– but having the same design, that might be pretty sweet. Let me think about it."

"Fine. Let's eat this lunch before it gets cold and then go back and get to work."

"Yes," Lovino grinned. "And then you can work on the contours of my muscles, and things."

…

When they got back to Lovino's place he surprised Arthur with a demand. "All right, bastard, go into the kitchen. I've got to teach you a lesson."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur followed him into the kitchen.

"Ah, nothing really. Just felt like having a little unusual fun. Drop your trousers and bend over the counter."

"_What?_" But they were both laughing now. Arthur did as instructed, intrigued, until he noticed Lovino had pulled a big silicone spatula from a drawer. "Er –"

"I can't believe you're actually so complaisant about this," Lovino gently tapped Arthur's buttocks with the spatula, as a sort of warm-up.

"I don't have a choice, do I? You're the boss. _Ow!_"

"What did I tell you about that?" Lovino drew his arm back for a second swing.

"Ow," Arthur moaned again as the spatula connected with his flesh. "You're bloody _sadistic,_ is what you are."

"Ah, don't be such a whiner. I didn't plan to just spank you and leave you here, you know." After a mere two more whacks he stopped and tossed the spatula in the sink. "That wasn't the fun part."

Arthur rubbed his bottom and groaned again. "Why? What have you got in mind now, sadistic git?"

"Idiot. Now that I've smacked you, I'm going to make you feel better. Climb up on the countertop and lie face-down."

Arthur did this, still wondering just what the hell Lovino had in mind. He felt the cold granite against his skin; hoped Lovino would be a little kinder to him now. "Ow."

"Calm down. I'm going to rub some nice cool butter on you, to take away the sting."

"That – that actually sounds like it might feel good," Arthur admitted. Lovino put a pat of butter on the reddened skin and began massaging it in. It did feel good. It felt very good. It felt even better than that.

"How's that?"

"Better. Mm. Yes, much better. Come here." Arthur propped himself up on his elbows so he could kiss Lovino more easily, fidgeting a little against the cold stone.

"No. No playing until you promise me something," the brunet laughed, spreading his fingers wide, continuing his firm and rhythmic strokes.

"What? I'll promise you anything, just let's get out of this kitchen and go to bed."

Lovino's warm hand kept rubbing him, now more slowly and teasingly. "No more calling me boss! Or chief, or master. None of that kind of shit. Ever."

"Bloody hell. I promise."

Lovino leaned in for a kiss and within seconds, Arthur forgot the sting of the spatula and the chill of the granite, focused only on the warmth of Lovino's mouth and the caress of his buttery hand. He smiled and successfully coaxed him up onto the countertop. This was a _delicious_ punishment...maybe he'd think about breaking the promise, someday...

…

_Time for some reader input! I had planned for them to find a house in Virginia; this would end the story after six more chapters. Before that, I'd decided they would go to Switzerland and find a home; this would introduce some new characters and end the story in about 12 more chapters. And I'm also considering that, now that they're going to be living together at Lovino's place, maybe they'll slack off on the home search and have some different adventures. They still need to go to England for the glove bet, for example, get their tattoos, etc. In that last case, I have no real end to the story yet. I have a lot of ideas for those kinds of chapters, but there is probably not too much drama this way, more like life adventures and personal development. _

_What would you like to see? A conclusive ending in the next few weeks? A conclusive ending in the next few months? Or a much longer story with no foreseeable conclusive ending at all? Please feel free to PM me if you don't want to put this in a review._

_Thank you for reading and enjoying my story!_


	65. Self Portrait

_Everybody wants me to continue! So I will. Thanks. But…you would have gotten this chapter no matter what._

…

**Self-Portrait.** (J. M. W. Turner, oil on canvas, 1799)

"It's so good to see you two. And don't you look _awesome!_ Artie, I don't think I have ever seen you look quite so classy before. You clean up nicely."

Arthur punched Gilbert. "You're still the same git you've always been." Then Gilbert shook hands with each of them.

"Where's Felicia?" Arthur then asked.

"No, no, no, he's Feliks tonight. He's been Felicia all week, on and off, for work and for some dumb party we had at the office, so tonight he's just being himself. It's nice to give him a rest from it once in a while. I love that man," Gilbert sighed happily, just as Feliks came into the building's lobby.

"Like, hi, guys! How are you both?" Feliks shook hands with both of them. He looked very mature and manly in a somber dark suit; his longish blond hair was discreetly tied back tonight.

"We're fine; thank you for asking." Arthur grinned cheekily at Feliks. "You're a great-looking guy, too, not just a beautiful woman," he said in a low tone.

Feliks blushed and looked down.

"Arthur. Hands off. You've got your own hot little stud." Gilbert elbowed Lovino, who also blushed, stared at the floor, and started grinding his teeth.

"Will you – er – just – just – excuse us a minute, please," Arthur said to Lovino and Feliks, dragging Gilbert aside. "Look. Lovino is not yet quite comfortable with the idea of – of acting like a, a boyfriend, a date, with me, in public. All right? Will you please treat him like we're just friends? I don't want him to be uncomfortable."

"Oh. I don't see why; you're a hot little stud yourself." Gilbert blew him a kiss. "But I understand. If it really bothers him, I'll stop."

"Thank you. Now, come back, and don't be a bloody _wet blanket._"

"Kesesese!" They came back, Arthur red-faced, Gilbert slightly subdued. "Sorry, Lovino. Didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Nh," he replied noncommittally. Arthur saw that Feliks was looking at them in concern.

But Gilbert got over this very quickly. "Well, come on! Here are the tickets." He handed them each a ticket. "Let's stay together, all right? Wouldn't be any fun if you two went sloping off somewhere." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yes, all right," Lovino grumbled.

The four of them entered the exhibit and began to look around the area, trying to decide what to do first. Lovino pulled Arthur aside to whisper to him. "Did you tell him? Tell him to shut up about the date shit?"

"Yes, I told him. Next time tell him yourself." He pushed a hand through his hair. "He can take it. But you have to be direct, all right? Gilbert is even worse than you for picking up on subtle cues."

"Ha ha. Fine, bastard. Next time he gets me pissed off, I'll tell him. I hope I won't need to, though. Come on." They started to walk back to the others. "And – uh – thanks."

Arthur gave him a little smirk as he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Come on, git."

…

After they left the exhibit, the four of them went for coffee together. "I totally never knew math could be so much, you know, fun!"

"And yet you're dating an awesome banker, my sweet little dumpling. Math is my life."

"Gilbert," Feliks retorted, "you, like, never talk about mathy stuff with me." He pouted cutely and Gilbert leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek.

"If you want to talk about 'mathy stuff,' dearest, we certainly can. I have no problem at all with that, kesesese." At that, Feliks batted his eyelashes at the albino.

Arthur was a little worried that Lovino would be sickened by all this rampant flirting, but when he checked, his friend was sipping his espresso patiently. Maybe he was trying not to listen?

Gilbert took a big gulp of hot coffee. "So what are you two up to these days? How's the gallery doing?"

"I sold the gallery."

Oh, dear…Arthur wished Lovino hadn't said that. If Gilbert realized he was now a _kept man_ –

"What? Then where are you working these days, Artie? Back at the diner? Why didn't you say?"

Bollocks.

"He's –" Lovino's eyes widened; apparently he'd just realized where this discussion was going. Lovino and Arthur looked at each other.

"Never mind. I don't want to talk about it." Arthur scowled at the table, praying that Gilbert would take the hint.

But no. "Are you –"

"Gilbert," Feliks interrupted, "will you go get me another latte, please? But with, like, skim milk this time. You know I totally need to watch every ounce."

"Yes, of course, my sweet love. Do either of you need anything?"

Arthur and Lovino both declined. Gilbert bounced up to the counter to order.

"I'm sorry." Feliks' voice was calm. "You know he's totally oblivious sometimes. I'll distract him."

"That's – that's good of you," Arthur said, red-faced. "Thanks."

Lovino was looking at Feliks with a wondering expression. When Gilbert came back with the new latte, Feliks reminded him that they needed to leave in order to make it to their late dinner reservation.

"Oh, right! Wouldn't be awesome to miss that. Hey, you two, take care, all right? I'll call you later, Artie." Feliks and Gilbert took their coffees and left.

"I'm glad Feliks is so astute," Arthur pointed out, after they were out of earshot.

"Me too. Sorry. I completely forgot how the bastard would react to that news."

"Eh, it's all right. We just need to cook up some story in case he asks me about it later."

They sipped their drinks for a little while without saying much. "What do you want to do now?" Arthur asked, when he'd finished his. They'd eaten dinner before the exhibit.

"Oh, let's go home," Lovino suggested. He finished his coffee and stood up. "Want another one?"

Arthur thought about it. "If I drink too much more coffee, I'll be up all night."

Lovino's expression slowly changed to an evil smirk. "I'll get you a triple espresso."

"Fine, wanker. Just brace yourself. I'll wait for you outside." He rose to leave.

As he stood on the sidewalk, Arthur thought back over the evening. He had never been very good at mathematics at all, and was still surprised at how inventive the curators had been in planning the exhibit. All four of them had had a lot of fun together, learning about the different ways numbers could be made entertaining. He'd really liked the giant calculator, which was operated by jumping on the buttons; he and Gilbert had acted like children, jumping up and down, yelling with glee. Lovino and Feliks had stood off to the side, Feliks grinning, Lovino merely watching patiently. Arthur smiled at the memory.

He was still staring into space when he felt warm arms encircle him from behind. "Huh, that's unlike you, git; are you drunk?" He leaned comfortably back into the embrace.

"Arthur! You _did_ miss me!" Alfred crooned in his ear.

"What!" Arthur jumped. Then he spun to face Alfred in the lamplight, scowling and red. "You wanker! What the hell are you doing?"

"My bro bought your gallery, right? How cool is that? He told me about meeting you, and I could just guess how much you missed me; he could tell we used to date by the way you got all red when he mentioned my name. Haha. I meant to call you, but kept forgetting. Tonight, though, I was just passing by; this was random good luck." He raised his eyebrows suggestively; Arthur didn't really notice, because he was fuming.

"So you just decided to assault me in public, git?" he hissed. Then he remembered his promise to himself, his promise to treat Alfred in a mature manner if they ever met again. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "I'm not certain what you misunderstood at our last meeting," he said calmly. "I'm no longer interested in you."

"Aw, come on, Artie, I've been so horny, and you give such good—"

"_Alfred F. Jones_!" Arthur grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him downwards. "If you don't stay away from me, I'll – I'll –"

He was instantly distracted by someone taking his free hand. It was a warm hand, a hand he loved, which squeezed his supportively. He let go of Alfred abruptly and turned his flustered, still-angry face to Lovino.

His friend was holding his hand peacefully, as though nothing unusual was happening, as though Alfred wasn't even standing there. "Do you want to go home now?" Lovino gave him a sweet smile, a beautiful, relaxed smile. Damn, he loved to see Lovino smile like that. Arthur, red-faced and now nearly in tears from his conflicting emotions_,_ managed a tremulous grin in return.

Lovino squeezed his hand again. Emboldened by this tiny public display of affection, Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he swept his hair back haughtily, turning away from Alfred without a word. He and Lovino began to walk off together, hands joined, leaving a gaping Alfred standing in the lamplight.

After a few steps, still holding Arthur's hand, Lovino spun back to the tall blond. He too grabbed the disheveled shirt collar, dragging him down so they were face to astonished face. "If you ever – _ever_ – bother him again, I'll slap a restraining order on you so hard it'll knock you back to California, you fucking bastard," he hissed. He shoved Alfred away, not bothering to watch him stumble. Lovino turned back to the stunned Arthur and raised their joined hands to his lips for an ostentatious public kiss. "Come home. I'm not in the mood for coffee anymore." His voice was serene as they turned away.

But behind them Alfred began laughing raucously. "A _restraining order?_ What a total pussy. If somebody pestered my boyfriend like that, I'd—"

"_Vaffanculo!"_ Lovino let go of Arthur and spun to slam his fist right into Alfred's nose, knocking his glasses askew. Blood began flowing from Alfred's nose; he stumbled backwards again.

"Ow! You little –"

But Lovino didn't let him finish. His accent thickened, his voice deepened as he growled, "Get over yourself, asshole; stay away from Arthur, stay away from me. I can make things extremely bad for you, and for your brother too. _Extremely._" He spat at Alfred's feet.

Arthur watched with wide eyes as Alfred used one hand to silently adjust his glasses, staring at Lovino, trying to staunch the flow of blood with the hem of his shirt. No one spoke. For ten seconds the three of them stood frozen. Then, apparently satisfied, Lovino grabbed Arthur's hand again and pulled him along the street, back towards the Jaguar.

Dazed, Arthur only dared look back once – at the end of the block – and Alfred was still standing where they'd left him, still cradling his bloody nose and now staring at the sidewalk. He shifted his attention to Lovino. "You – you're unbelievable."

"I've got to step up and deal with the boyfriend shit sometime, Arthur. Got to walk the walk. This seemed like a good time to start." Lovino seemed rather calm again. "Uh – I hope you aren't mad at me for butting in."

"No! It was excellent_. _Remind me to never make you angry. You were – you were _badass_!"

"I meant to be, stupid. I know the bastard pisses you off. But he obviously didn't take no for an answer, when you told him." He squeezed Arthur's hand again as they reached the car. "I hope that got the message across."

"I hope he's not stupid enough to try some kind of revenge."

"Cheh. He does, I'll make trouble for him." Lovino shrugged. "I can deal with it. You – you're all right?"

"I'm more than all right, Lovino. I'm…ridiculously proud to be with you."

Standing in the pool of light from the street lamp, Lovino let go of Arthur's hand and put his arms around him instead. "I am too. Proud and very happy to be the boyfriend of a man like you."

Arthur leaned forward daringly and kissed him. Just a little kiss…which Lovino reciprocated, turning it into a much deeper one. "Nh. Let's go home, then, badass boyfriend of mine, instead of necking in the bloody street."

"Sure, bastard." He pressed the Jaguar's keys into Arthur's hand with a smile. "Want to drive?"

"Oh! _Yes!_"

…

_Turner, in this self-portrait, looks like Gilbert. Although without the maniacal grin._


	66. Portrait of Robert Fleuranges de la

**Portrait of Robert Fleuranges de la Marck.** (François-Édouard Picot, oil on canvas, 1834)

"I have to run out and get some paints this morning. Is there anything you need while I'm out?"

Lovino looked up from his computer. "Yeah, can you pick up some of that fresh tomato soup from the gourmet place? I love that stuff."

"Yes, all right. I'll get some scones, too."

"Please. I don't want you trying to make them again in this kitchen. It's a good thing we're going to move someday. I just hope the new owners won't mind the scorch marks on the countertops."

"Wanker. I'll be back in a bit. I've got my phone; call me if you think of anything else I need to get."

"Sure, see you."

…

"By the way, I keep meaning to ask…how much did Williams offer you for the gallery job?" Lovino looked a bit hesitant as they poured soup into bowls for lunch.

"Er. Seriously? Double what you were paying me." He tried to laugh.

"You're joking_._" Lovino took the bowls to the table; Arthur brought spoons and drinks.

"Not at all. But I admit I slanted things that way. He asked my salary requirements; since I knew I wasn't going to take the job anyway, I arbitrarily doubled my salary number and threw it at him. But he agreed." They sat to eat.

"All right, then, bastard, you just earned yourself a raise. I'll double what I'm giving you."

"What? What the hell for?" Arthur dropped his soup spoon. "I don't even do anything!"

"Idiot. Just take the fucking money, all right? It's still barely a drop in the bucket for me."

"Boy, you really know how to make a man feel appreciated."

"Sh-shut up and eat."

…

After a curiously silent conclusion to the meal, Lovino rose to clean up the table. Arthur left to put the new art supplies in his workroom. When he came back down, Lovino was gone. Ah, he'd probably just headed back to his laptop, which he was now keeping in the dining room. Arthur walked back in there to talk to him about what else they needed to do. "Er – Lovino?"

His friend didn't respond; he was facing out the dining room window, arms crossed. Arthur walked over and reached out a hand to his shoulder. In a moment Lovino turned; Arthur was astonished to see that he was fighting tears. "Oh – please –" He reached out and gathered him into his arms.

Lovino did not object. Arthur held him until his breath grew calmer. "Shh," he crooned, rubbing his back. "Please don't get so distressed. What's wrong?"

Pressing his face against Arthur's shoulder, Lovino sniffled. "I'm –I'm such a fucking spoiled b-bastard...don't want to piss you off…"

"Don't worry about it. I can handle it." Arthur kissed his hair, trying to organize his frantic thoughts. Lovino really worried about that? _He_ hadn't worried about it for a very long time. "You once said you'd chuck it all, if you could take me with you…and I said I'd do it. Do you remember that?"

Lovino nodded fiercely against his shoulder.

"Should we do that? We could go live quietly in the country somewhere –?"

"M-maybe. But – but I'm not really going to give up all my money, you know. I want to use it to have fun together with you."

"I guess it really would be a wrench for you to give it up."

"Stupid." Lovino sounded a little more normal now, though he didn't look up. "If I didn't have the money, we'd both have to go to work, and wouldn't have a lot of time together. I like to travel and see and do new things. So I want to travel with you, and have fun with all the interesting things we can do together. I'm really excited about our new life together." He hugged Arthur tightly.

"I am too," the blond admitted, combing his fingers through the dark hair. "I think my only real problem with the whole thing at this point is that we – we're, ah, we're together, you see? If I were simply your employee, doing things for you – making travel arrangements, running errands, whatever, like a private secretary – and you decided to double my salary, I wouldn't really have a problem with it. In fact I'd probably be rather happy with it. But I feel like I'm taking advantage of your, your, er, your feelings for me, to get extra money out of you? I don't know if that's the right way to explain it."

This did make Lovino raise his eyes. "But that's not right at all, bastard. You aren't taking advantage of me! If you were trying to wheedle a double salary out of me I'd be worried, but you haven't been. I know you're no parasite. That's why I don't mind giving you the extra money. A parasite would have taken the money and started trying to work out how to get more, and after he'd lined his wallet, he'd take off."

"I'm not going to take off!" Arthur blurted in surprise. "I would rather be with you than have any amount of money at all."

Lovino took a deep breath. "You're so good to me."

"Wanker." Arthur squeezed him tightly around the waist.

They stood embracing until Lovino seemed ready to talk again. "A-are we – are we settled? You understand where I'm coming from, why I don't have a problem doing this? You'll take the money? This way I know you'll have enough to take care of yourself."

"I understand. I guess you're right." Arthur sighed.

"I'm always right."

"Er – about that 'spoiled bastard' comment?" Arthur started laughing at him, and Lovino poked him.

"Cheh. Yes, I know, I know. But you _do_ see what I mean?"

"Of course I do, you adorable git." He kissed Lovino's hair again, feeling the soft strands against his lips. Arthur let his thoughts wander, just feeling happy to be with him, no matter how bloody high-handed he got at times. He always calmed down afterwards, when they'd had a chance to talk it out. It was never a long-term problem. "Oh. I did have another question for you."

"Bastard, you're going to kill me."

"No, this is a pretty basic question. Are we going to Italy this year for Christmas?"

"Huh. You really like to start this Christmas talk early, don't you? But yes, let's talk. First of all, I need to get over there in October to check in with the factory. But if everything's going well, then maybe we could go somewhere else over Christmas? Want to go to England for the glove bet?" Lovino blushed and started fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

Arthur smiled and smoothed the hair away from Lovino's brow; the brunet looked into his eyes. "Sure. I'd like to go back; it's been a few years now, you know, and it would be fun with you. We probably need to make hotel arrangements pretty soon."

"Hm. How about this? Since you're all moved in here and we don't really need to rush things, why don't we have a nice long vacation? Start in Italy for Christmas, visit Feli, and all that; pick up the Ferrari, then leisurely drive from there to London, maybe looking at cities to consider living in, and end up in England in March? After that we can come back here and have some serious talk about whether to move, or what."

"Sounds good to me. Thank you." Arthur kissed his friend. "I'm sure it will be an exciting trip!"

"Of course it will. You'll make the travel arrangements?"

"Yes, of course. I have to start earning that money sometime."

"Idiot. Stop that, or I'll get the spatula out again."

Arthur's eyes lit up before he could stop himself.

"Huh. Forget it, bastard. Let's make a list of all the cities we want to visit."

"Yes – er – _Lovino_." He laughed at himself and they went into the dining room to look things up on Lovino's laptop. "Just one thing, though. If we take the Ferrari, and fly home from London, how will you get the car back to Rome?"

"Ah, I'll just get one of my factory guys to fly up and drive it back."

Arthur shook his head. "It's a whole different world."

"Shut up about it. Let's make some plans."

…


	67. Autumnal Fantasy

**Autumnal Fantasy.** (Charles Burchfield, watercolor, 1944)

"Whatever happened with that fallen angel painting?" Lovino asked, as they got comfortable in the big bed that night.

"Oh. It's done. I kind of forgot about it, with all the moving business. I'll show you tomorrow, if you like."

"Sure. That was a good night. I'd like to see what you got from it."

"Heh. I could show you right now what I got from it."

Lovino sighed in faux resignation and stretched, rolling his eyes. "Fine, bastard, show me."

…

The next morning they took their drinks into Arthur's new workroom. It was the smaller of Lovino's two spare bedrooms, but had better light for him to paint. While the blond rummaged around to find the fallen angel painting, Lovino pulled his new glasses out and put them on. They were tortoiseshell, same as his old ones, but a much more delicate frame. "Wow," he said.

"Wow what?" Arthur sipped tea as they checked out the painting.

"Wow, you're a fucking good artist, that's all. That's an amazing painting."

"You're an amazing subject." He clapped Lovino on the shoulder with the hand that wasn't holding the tea mug. "Hey! When did you get new glasses? Let me see."

Lovino obediently looked at Arthur and blinked a few times, owlishly. "Well?"

"Much better. They open up your face a lot more. You look really sexy in them. Studious and sexy. If I saw you in a library I'd probably attack you."

"Cheh. Of course you would." Lovino smirked, but blushed, too. He looked at the painting again. "Do you want to take this over to the gallery?"

"What do you mean? What for?"

"Uh. I didn't tell you this? I – part of the contract of sale was that I might have things to sell, other artworks or whatever, and that Williams would reserve one spot for whatever I might have. He takes ten percent of the sale price, and I – you'd get the rest. I admit I only slipped that clause in so you'd have a market for your paintings; I don't expect to be selling too many of my remaining family things."

Arthur stared at him.

"What, bastard? What are you staring at?" Confused, he backhanded his friend in the chest.

"Ow. You're serious? You negotiated a contract with that in because of _me_?" Arthur's voice rose to a squeak on that last word.

"Shit. Don't tell me I was being too autocratic again. I really did think I'd mentioned this to you, and I also thought it made sense. I – I'm sorry." Lovino turned and faced out of the windows.

"N-no, that's not it at all. That's – really thoughtful!"

Lovino turned back. Arthur had that smile on his face again. "Don't look at me like that, dammit, or I'll tear up the fucking contract."

Arthur hugged him. "All right. But – thank you. I hadn't even started thinking about where I'd sell my things now that you got rid of the gallery. I thought we'd end up with a house full of my paintings!" He laughed. "This is great! Want to go celebrate for breakfast?"

"Sure, bastard, on one condition. Don't try to sell that painting over there." Lovino pointed back at it. "I'd feel like an idiot."

"Don't worry. The less I have to do with that blasted gallery, the better."

"Uh. Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. Well, if you ever do have anything you want to sell there, I'll handle it for you. All right?"

"All right, sweet git. Let's go have brunch."

…

Over brunch they mapped out the vacation, more or less: start in Rome for the holidays, to visit Feli and his family (and the fucking potato bastard, Lovino pointed out with a roll of the eyes), with some business time for him to check on the car factory, then meander through Florence and Milan before aiming for Zurich. There, they'd spend a little extra time, considering it as a possible future home. After Zurich? Paris, Calais, and then London, where they'd also spend more time, allowing Arthur to tour-guide his friend all over the country, since Lovino hadn't spent much time in England at all.

"Now, this is amazing," Arthur noticed, looking at the little map they'd drawn. "You managed to completely bypass Germany."

"Idiot."

"Even without Germany on the itinerary, this is going to be very fun," Arthur admitted. "For regular people like me, a long vacation like this is never possible. I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. In fact," he mused, "I'm going to buy a new camera and a very nice journal."

"What about your painting? You should have some kind of travel kit. You could do a little painting, like a postcard size, in every place we stopped; then when we get back, we can have them all framed in one big frame and hang it somewhere."

"You inspire me so much. I'll definitely do that. I've always wanted a little plein air setup, but haven't found too many reasons to justify it. Ha, I love shopping for new art supplies!" He beamed at Lovino.

"Get whatever you need, bastard. So – you'll start making the travel arrangements soon? We don't want to be stuck without a hotel."

"Yes, I remember how well that worked out last time. Ha. I'll get it all done this week. Do you have any kind of preference of where to stay?"

"I wouldn't mind staying in my old hotel in Rome, but otherwise, whatever you choose is fine. Don't go for fleabag hotels, though. Pick the top of the line places."

"Yes, sir."

"Dammit."

"Going to get the spatula out later?" Arthur asked, with a very cheeky grin.

"Forget it, bastard. In this case I think _not_ punishing you is going to get the message across better."

Arthur pouted, but couldn't maintain it, and started laughing. "You're right. Well, don't worry. I'll let you know when all this is done. "

…

When they got back home from lunch Arthur went for a rummage to see what supplies he already owned that could be packed into a pochade box. In a moving box with some brushes he found the old sketchbook, the one that had caused such stress for the two of them. Arthur decided to take a look.

He leafed through it, getting inspired by his own old work, until he reached the last used page, and then he stared at the little sketch in astonishment. No wonder Lovino had been so embarrassed. That had been _months_ before they'd begun dating.

Arthur let his fingers trail over the tiny drawing, wondering what had made Lovino sketch him, wondering just how he'd felt when he'd realized Arthur would be looking at it someday. And it was so good! Lovino was always complaining about his struggles with art, but this was a very cute little drawing. He smiled fondly at it and put the book back into the storage box for safekeeping.

He walked out into the dining room, right up behind Lovino, and slipped his arms around him in a tender embrace. Lovino craned his head to look up at him without removing his glasses. "Bastard, not that I don't like it when you have these spontaneous hug attacks, but…why?"

Arthur didn't answer at first, just smiled, and laid his cheek against the soft dark hair, humming softly. Lovino was more patient than he'd expected, sitting quietly and waiting for an explanation. "Just happy."

"Bullshit. What happened?" Lovino grinned and took his glasses off.

"Found my old sketchbook." Arthur tightened his arms, but Lovino lost his grin, dropped his gaze, and began to fiddle with the glasses.

At this, Arthur murmured, "You're adorable."

"What? I was a fucking idiot!"

"For what? Sketching me?"

"No, stupid." Lovino dropped the glasses and put his head in his hands. "For not realizing _why_ I sketched you."

"Doesn't matter anymore. Since we're together, and we both seem to be pretty happy about it."

"Cheh. Wiseass." But Lovino started to smile again, which was a good thing.

"Come in the kitchen," Arthur then suggested, releasing his hold and standing up straight.

"What? Why?"

"Heh heh. I'm going to punish you for always calling yourself an idiot." He led the way into the kitchen, but did not go for the spatula right away.

"First of all, bastard, I rarely, _rarely_ refer to _myself_ as an idiot. It's everybody else in the whole fucking world who's an idiot."

"Even me?" Arthur couldn't decide whether to laugh or pout, so he ended up with a rather goofy expression on his face.

"You're marginally less idiotic than most," Lovino told him with a grin. "Ah, I take it back. You're not an idiot either. But – everybody else is."

"I'm honored. Everyone in the entire world is beneath me, in the idiocy rankings."

"Except me, idiot." They both began laughing and Lovino lunged past Arthur to pull the spatula out of the drawer.

"Hey! I thought I was going to get to punish you." Arthur tried to wrestle the spatula away.

For a few seconds they struggled for mastery and then Lovino pulled Arthur close, pinning both his arms. "Forget the fucking spatula, bastard. Take me up to bed."

Arthur's eyes widened at this. He scooped Lovino up and lightly ran up the steps, both of them laughing together the whole way there.

…

_Sorry. There's absolutely no way I'm going to try and paint that fallen angel painting. You want to try it, be my guest._


	68. The Grande Armée Crossing the Berezina

_This is now my most-reviewed story, so I give you this update a little sooner than usual, in celebration. Yay._

…

**The Grande Arm****é****e Crossing the Berezina.** (January Suchodolski, oil on canvas, 1866)

Lovino was trying very hard to put himself in a proper festive mood, but it didn't seem to be working. The albino bastard was hosting an American Thanksgiving luncheon for a small group of friends at his fancy high-rise condo. Arthur would be meeting them here; he had been running errands all morning. Lovino parked the Jaguar and walked towards the building.

No sign of Arthur yet. Should he wait in the lobby? Ah, it was a nice afternoon. He'd wait outside.

Lovino let his mind wander a bit, thinking about their upcoming trip and wondering whether there was anything specific they should do while in Europe that he'd perhaps forgotten about, or anything specific he needed to take. While he thought, he dimly realized someone was approaching him, but didn't pay too much attention until the man stopped right in front of him.

_What?_ It was that blond bastard of Arthur's – Albert, or whatever the hell – and he was grinning at Lovino and holding his hand out for a shake. What the fuck? Lovino eyed his hand, and then scowled up at the twinkling blue eyes.

"Excuse me," the blond said in a very friendly tone. "I couldn't help noticing you." He waggled his hand, as if to catch Lovino's attention, but Lovino again ignored it. "Haven't we met somewhere before? My name is Alfred Jones."

Lovino boggled, and then started laughing, loud whoops of laughter that made tears spring to his eyes and startled the blond. "You fucking idiot," he wheezed, guessing that as soon as Alfred heard his Italian accent, he'd remember where they'd met before.

Yes. Alfred yanked his hand back and covered his nose with it defensively, stepping backwards; this increased Lovino's hilarity. "You're the biggest moron in all of America," he went on. "I wonder what the fuck Arthur ever saw in a dumbass like you." He kept laughing.

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" Arthur himself demanded, storming up behind Lovino. "Alfred, what are you doing?" He walked right up to Alfred and glared at him. "Go away!"

"Hey, Artie, nice to see you! I'm here for Gilbert's Thanksgiving party! What about you?" Then Alfred looked at Lovino again and his eyes widened as he backed away. "Oops."

"Fuck," Lovino muttered. Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. He refused to socialize with this idiotic bastard and turned towards the car.

"Wait," Arthur said, grabbing his arm. "Let's at least go tell Gilbert why we're leaving."

"Gilbert is an ass."

"Yes, he is," Arthur grinned, ignoring Alfred. "Come on, let's go up."

Unfortunately Alfred joined them in the elevator. Well, at least he wasn't pestering them.

When Gilbert opened his front door, he stared at the three of them with his mouth agape and slammed the door shut reflexively. Lovino started laughing again; this day was just too fucking stupid already, and it was only lunchtime! Gilbert opened the door again. "Uh – hi?"

Arthur took charge here. "Gilbert, thank you for inviting us, but Lovino and I find ourselves unable to stay. I hope you have a good Thanksgiving. Please give Feliks our regards."

Lovino nodded at the albino. "Gilbert," he said pleasantly, taking Arthur's hand. "I'm sure we'll see you soon."

The two of them walked back to the elevator, both Alfred and Gilbert staring after them. "What the hell?" they heard Gilbert say.

"Aw, lemme in, I'm starving," Alfred whined to his host, and then the elevator arrived and Arthur pulled Lovino into it.

The elevator doors closed. "Arthur! What the hell did you ever see in him?"

The blond sighed. "I'm beginning to wonder, myself. Thanks for being calm about it."

"Cheh. It was too fucking stupid. I couldn't believe he actually tried to pick me up."

"He _did_? Oh, my God." Arthur covered his eyes with his hand. "I must have been bloody desperate."

"It makes me wonder if I should break up with you," Lovino mused.

"_What? _You want to go out with him?" Arthur's expression was amazing. Lovino laughed at him and pinched his cheek.

"No, you idiot. I meant, if you're lame enough to be happy with a clown like that, then maybe I deserve somebody better. Somebody with a little more taste."

"Wanker." Arthur punched him. "Don't even joke about that." They walked out into the sunny afternoon.

"Sorry. But it was fucking funny. What do you want to do now? Probably can't get any kind of Thanksgiving meal anywhere."

"Diner's always open," Arthur reminded him.

"Yeah, that's good. Let's go."

…

"We should definitely move to Europe," Arthur told him, over dessert.

"Why the sudden volte-face?"

"Alfred," he admitted. "I can't stand it, that we keep running into him; every time I see him I feel like a complete loser. It was all right when he was in California, but…"

"Bastard, you shouldn't let that idiot drive us out of the fucking _country_." Lovino thought about this. "But on the other hand I have no real problem moving back to Europe; you know that. And I admit I'm sick of him already."

"I suspect you wouldn't mind seeing the last of Gilbert, either."

"Well. I know he's a friend of yours, but…yeah, I could live without him."

"Fine. When we go on our trip, let's seriously look into where we want to live. Is there – is there any country you'd like to consider, that's not on our itinerary?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"No. I made sure we'd be stopping in all the places I like."

"What about places you're not sure about? I mean, what if it turned out our dream place was in, I don't know, Poland, or Russia?"

"Cheh. I have to be able to speak the language, and those are too foreign for me. We'll find a place. Don't you worry your fluffy little blond head about it, sweetie."

Arthur turned red. "I can never decide whether I like it when you talk like that, or if it gives me the creeps!"

"Bastard. I have to keep you guessing." Lovino paid the bill with a smirk. "Come on, let's go home."

…


	69. Miracle of St Patrick

_This morning I realized there was one issue I'd never addressed in this story. Today seemed like a good day to correct that oversight._

…

**Miracle of St. Patrick.** (Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, altarpiece, 1746)

"Come into the living room," Lovino suggested in a quiet voice.

Arthur did so, leaving his tea in the dining room. "What's wrong?"

"Sit down, please."

This didn't sound good. Had he done something wrong? He sat.

Lovino paced back and forth a bit. Arthur was glad all the extra furniture was in storage so he didn't bump into something. He waited, somewhat nervously, for his friend to begin speaking.

"I feel like a complete ass," Lovino said. He kept pacing, but didn't say anything. Well – if _he_ felt like an ass, maybe Arthur hadn't done anything wrong? When another two full minutes had passed in silence, he decided to find out.

"Why do you feel like an ass?"

Lovino paced a bit more. "Arthur. You know how fucking selfish I am, right?"

"Well, that's debatable, but…what's your point? And stop pacing; you're going to wear out the floor."

"Let me pace, dammit." Lovino paced. "You…are very good to me."

"Look, what the hell's the matter with you?"

"Shut up, bastard. Let me get to it in my own time."

Arthur sighed in exasperation and lay back on the sofa. "Fine. Wake me up when you're ready to talk."

"Bastard. You keep acting like that and maybe I won't bother."

"Whatever! I don't even know what the bloody hell you're talking about, so it won't bother me if you drop the discussion."

"Just shut up and let me work this out! It's bad enough I feel like the most spoiled, ignorant guy in the whole fucking world."

Arthur was more than a little intrigued by now. "Fine. Say what you want, whenever you want." He tried to close his eyes and relax, but he was too worried about Lovino's puzzling behavior. He watched his friend pace.

"Sit up," Lovino then demanded, coming over to the couch.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur complied. Lovino sat next to him. "I want to apologize," he went on.

"Why? What did you do?"

"Bastard. I." He took a deep breath. "I've known you for what now, a year and a half?"

"About that, yes." Arthur eyed him warily.

"You –" Lovino leaned forward and put his head in his hands before speaking in a low rush. "You must have had a birthday sometime and I didn't even ask you about it or notice."

"_That's_ what's worrying you?" Of course Arthur had felt a little sad when his birthday had passed without Lovino saying anything about it, but then, later he'd realized he'd never told his friend when it was. And he wasn't about to walk up to him and say "By the way, boss, my birthday's next week"; that would have been too bloody self-serving. He hadn't known how to deal with it, so he hadn't said anything at all. They'd been in Italy at the time anyway, busy with arranging for the shipment of personal belongings and the gallery dealer's night. But, _ah_ –

"Yes. You – you told me you would have done something nice for my birthday, except I didn't tell you when it was, but it never even occurred to me to ask about yours, and I feel like an ass about it. I'm really sorry."

Arthur began laughing.

"What are you laughing at, bastard?" Lovino was apparently too concerned even to punch him.

"You gave me one of the best presents of my life on my birthday. You gave me your trust." He took the brunet's hand.

"What? Well, whatever I did, it was completely by accident. When's your fucking birthday, bastard?" he demanded.

"April 23rd." He hugged Lovino and then flopped back on the sofa.

The brunet frowned. "We were in Italy in April, weren't we?"

Arthur grinned, showing all his teeth, widening his eyes. "Yes, indeed."

Lovino's jaw dropped. "You complete _bastard. _You're not going to tell me that day we – we – the first time we ever – uh –"

"That is precisely what I'm going to tell you, wanker. And I didn't even plan it that way. Don't worry about it. It was awesome. A great present. Best present ever!" He pinched Lovino's ass.

"Ow. Dammit." But at least Lovino was beginning to smile. "You really should have said something, you idiot."

"Right. 'Hey, very generous boss and boyfriend, tomorrow's my birthday, so do something nice for me'? I don't think so. Anyway, I thought it worked out pretty nicely."

"I'll make it up to you next year." Lovino shifted a little closer.

"Mm. If it's anything like last year, I'll look forward to it. On one condition."

"Uh. You want me to tell you when my birthday is?"

"Bingo. You're surprisingly astute."

"Supercilious English bastard. Kiss me."

"Not until you tell me when your birthday is, wanker! Come on. It's not fair otherwise."

"Well, all right. It's March 17th."

"St. Patrick's day? Huh, that's a surprise."

"Whatever. You're not mad at me?"

Arthur laughed at him. "No."

"That's good." Lovino leaned against him. "Sorry, though."

"Hey, I know you have to retrain your brain not to be so self-centered. It must be difficult."

"Shut up."

"Yes, all right. Let's go upstairs and relive the memories of my birthday?" Arthur raised his eyebrows.

Rising, Lovino reached out a hand with a grin. "Of all your endearing traits, I believe your subtlety is what I like best."

"Shut it. I'm going to go paint instead." Arthur sniffed and marched out of the room.

"What? Forget that, bastard!" Lovino chased him up the stairs and into the workroom, where he pinned Arthur against the wall, laughing.

But then he lost his grin. "No. You're right. Go ahead and paint. I'll be downstairs working on the computer." He turned to leave the room.

"What the hell?" Arthur scooted after him and grabbed his arm, turning him back to see Lovino silently laughing. "You git."

"Yeah, I know. So, come on, what are we going to do?"

"Ah, let's save the playtime for later. I do need to go get my art supplies for the trip."

"Well, let's do that. Maybe I'll pick up something fun to keep me occupied while we travel."

"Get a new e-reader! Since you didn't lose the gloves, maybe you could, er, not-lose an e-reader? I can help make sure you don't lose it."

"Maybe. Let's go." They went back down the stairs.

"Could – could we go visit the Netherlands Carillon while we're out? I've never yet been there, and I've wanted to go for a long time." Arthur fidgeted a little. Maybe this was too dorky for Lovino?

"Of course. Whatever you like. Train or car?"

"Eh. Let's drive; I don't want to be hauling a lot of art supplies around on the metro."

"Sure. Here." Lovino threw him the Spitfire's keys and they left the house.

"Lovino?"

"What?"

Arthur kissed him. "Nothing. Just – just don't worry about the birthday business, all right?"

"All right, bastard. It's behind me now. But I am sorry."

"I know. Get in the car, we're wasting time."

…

_England doesn't have a national day, so I chose April 23, St. George's Day, since St. George is the patron saint of England. It's completely coincidental that I'd had them – er – "celebrating" in Italy that day. I hadn't realized that until I looked through my previous chapters today to see where they'd been last April._

_And for Italy, the anniversary of the Risorgimento is March 17. It's just another coincidence that I decided to write about this today. Happy St. Patrick's Day…and happy birthday Lovi and Feli!_


	70. The Blizzard

**The Blizzard (The White North Wind).** (Charles Burchfield, watercolor, 1963)

"Arrangements all made?"

"Everything other than the return flight home. I figured we could do that later, when we're closer to the date. That way if something crops up we don't have to worry about changing it."

Lovino laughed, cleaning off the breakfast table. "Great idea. Hey, let's go for a walk after this is cleaned up. It's a nice day, with the snow falling."

"Sure, I don't mind."

Lovino grabbed their coats – and his gloves – and once togged up, they headed outside. "I do love the winters here. Snow is very pretty, when it doesn't shut down your whole lifestyle."

"Makes a nice change from rain," Arthur agreed, taking his hand.

"I was really scared about going to Rome with you last Christmas," Lovino then admitted quietly. "I was afraid it would be a disaster, but…it was great." He smiled. "_You _were great. So caring, and – and patient with me. And I really liked all the things we did together."

Arthur squeezed his hand. "Me too…or couldn't you tell? But I – I almost wish we were staying here over Christmas, so we could put up our own tree, and all that."

"Dammit!" Lovino yelled, dropping Arthur's hand and smacking himself in the forehead.

"What? It's not that big of a deal. I'm sure by next Christmas we'll have a place to live, and we can do it there." Arthur tried to take his hand again, and Lovino let him, but inside, he was fuming.

"Dammit. When we – when we packed up all the stuff in Rome, it was April, you know?"

"Yes, I do know." Arthur grinned.

"I wasn't even thinking about Christmas at that time."

"Yes?"

"Idiot, stop patronizing me. What I'm trying to say is that I – I forgot to pack all my Christmas ornaments. The old ones that you and I put on the tree last year." Dammit. He felt like an ass. Those ornaments were doubly important to him, after last Christmas with Arthur. Fuck.

"But I –" Arthur interrupted himself, taking a deep breath. "M-maybe they're still in the attics. If I contacted the new owners, maybe we could get them back?" He didn't seem too distressed. Well, the ornaments probably didn't have as much sentimental value for him.

"I'd feel stupid asking about them, though."

"Why? It was an honest mistake. They were up in the attics, not right out in front of you."

"Cheh, forget it." Lovino tried to be lighthearted. "They're just _things_. When we get our house you and I can start a new collection of ornaments, just ours. Anyway, they probably tossed them, by now."

"Well, if you're sure? I don't mind trying to get them back, if you like."

"No. Forget it." He tried to get his mind off this while they walked. "Let's go to the grocery store. I'm in the mood for scones."

"You're kidding_._"

"Yes, bastard, I'm kidding. I want some soup, but thought you'd like to pick up some scones. Let's go." He changed direction and pulled Arthur along to the gourmet store.

…

The next morning Lovino awakened later than usual, alone and toasty warm in his big ornate bed. Stretching lazily, he wondered whether the snow had kept falling, and what they'd do today if they were trapped in the house. Well, it wouldn't really be a problem; they had plenty of things to keep them occupied here.

Travel-wise, their flight didn't leave for four days, so he wasn't concerned about missing it; in any case, that could easily be rescheduled. He slipped out of bed and padded over to the big window to peek outside.

Lovino's bedroom overlooked his small fenced back yard. Dusted with snow, it now had a very peaceful appearance; the rarely-used patio furniture covered in white, the few small trees resembling lace in the still grey air. The roads, he could see, were wet but clear; traffic proceeded as usual, but the world seemed hushed and sleepy. He breathed deeply, savoring the peace, before dropping the heavy curtain and turning from the window.

Well, that was good; at least they wouldn't be cooped up all day. Lovino walked into the small master bathroom to wash up.

Once inside, he froze in shock. The entire bathroom was hung with Christmas ornaments – _his_ Christmas ornaments, the ones he'd been talking to Arthur about, just yesterday? Staring in wonder, he moved hesitantly to touch them, feeling the different wood grains, glass, and cool porcelains under his fingertips. Lovino brushed his teeth and washed up, still gazing at them, wondering how the hell Arthur had managed this. He must be a magician.

Back in his room he got quickly dressed in jeans and a dark sweater, stepping out to look for his friend, and discovered ornaments hanging from the ceiling of the hallway and the doorknobs of other rooms, as well. Garlands of greenery had been wrapped around the banisters; from where he stood, he could see a potted poinsettia at the top of the stairs. Lovino wandered weakly down the stairs, fingers tracing each precious thing he passed.

He made himself a cup of espresso in the undecorated kitchen and then drifted out to the living room to find his friend.

Arthur, sitting on the sofa in nondescript sweats, was reading a coffee-table book about Italy; he looked up and grinned at Lovino's bewildered expression. "Merry Christmas." He closed the book and set it aside gently on the seat.

"Bastard, you…how? I – this is amazing. I had no idea you were so resourceful. They sent them by overnight courier?" In the living room: a potted holly bush, more garlands, and the last of the Christmas decorations hanging from the mantelpiece.

"Come and sit." Arthur patted the striped sofa cushion. "No. I'm neither that resourceful nor that extravagant."

Lovino sat and sipped coffee, eyes still wide with disbelief. "Then how?" He tilted his head, pondering.

"You're not thinking logically." Arthur put his arms around Lovino gently; the brunet set his coffee cup down and relaxed against him. "Remember when we were in Rome, packing and all that? Arranging for the artworks to go to museums?"

Lovino nodded.

"I made sure to go find these in the attics and pack them, so that you'd have them at Christmastime. They were in a box that I put straight into your attic when the shipment got here. That's all. Nothing mysterious or resourceful about it. I got up in the middle of the night last night to decorate, and went out for the plants this morning as soon as the shops opened. Do you like it?"

"What a stupid question." Lovino leaned his head on Arthur's supportive shoulder. "You're a marvel. I know I've told you this before, but – but nobody's ever done the kind of things for me that you do. I – you're unbelievable."

Arthur held him. "I have good motivation. Want to see you happy."

"I am happy, stupid. You know that."

"I do know that, git. But – aren't you maybe just a tiny bit happier now that you know your ornaments are safe?" Arthur leaned back and gave him a soft smile.

"Just a tiny bit," Lovino admitted.

"Then I'm doing all right." Arthur hugged him tightly again. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, sentimental bastard." Lovino picked up his coffee cup again and began to sip, leaning back against the cushions, feeling the holiday spirit entering his soul.

…

_This one, not a coincidence. Back when I wrote those Rome chapters I did intend Arthur to sneakily do this._


	71. Carcere, with a Circular Tower

**Carcere, with a Circular Tower (Second State).** (Giovanni Battista Piranesi, etching, 1744?)

"Arthur." Lovino spoke in a low voice as he tried to tie his bowtie in front of the hotel mirror.

"Yes?"

But Lovino didn't continue. Arthur left off fiddling (unsuccessfully) with his own bowtie and came to rest a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nh." He wouldn't meet Arthur's eyes. "I. Tonight." But he apparently still couldn't go on.

"Yes? Worried about Ludwig?"

"N-not so much him. We – uh."

Now Arthur was very worried. It was quite unlike Lovino to be so tongue-tied these days. They were meeting Feliciano and Ludwig for a swank dinner somewhere in Rome, he wasn't quite sure where, but if it wasn't Ludwig-related stress, he had no idea why Lovino was acting so oddly. "Calm down, please?" He tried to turn his friend away from the mirror, but Lovino stiffly resisted.

"I don't want to dance with you, all right?" he finally yelled, his bow falling apart. "Dammit."

Arthur was rather nonplussed. "Er – we're going dancing? I thought we were going out to dinner." Blast. He didn't even know how to dance, not the fancy kinds of dances Lovino probably knew.

Lovino met his eyes in the mirror. "We are going out to dinner. But there's dancing there, too. Arthur, you – you know I care about you, and I'm getting better with the public shit, but dancing with a man in public – I can't do it. I just can't."

"Oh. Well, that's all right. I don't know how to dance anyway." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when Lovino started laughing.

"Dammit. Why the fuck didn't you tell me, before I got all worked up?" Lovino returned his attention to his bowtie and successfully tied it.

"Because I didn't know we were going dancing, wanker!" Arthur punched him in the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We can sit at the table and make sarcastic comments about Ludwig under our breath, if you like. Er – does he – do he and Feli dance?"

"Cheh, shit, yes, they go dancing all the time. Feli said they're even taking dancing lessons together."

"Bloody hell. I hope you never do get comfortable with the idea of dancing with me. I do not want to learn to dance, not at this stage of my life. I'd feel like a git."

Lovino finally turned away from the mirror and tickled him under the chin. "Let's make a deal, then, adorable bastard. No dancing, ever?"

"Well…" Arthur had just had an idea. "Would you ever dance with me in private?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Maybe – maybe someday when we're alone, we could dance together?" He knew he was blushing; bloody hell, he felt stupid, but the idea of slow-dancing with Lovino had gotten into his brain and now he really wanted to do it.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance?" Lovino eyed him suspiciously.

"I can't do those fancy dances, like waltzes or whatever, but I – I'd like to hold you and do a slow dance, sometime." He turned away.

"Bastard. You're too fucking cute. I tell you what. After we find a place to live, and move in, and get settled…then yes. I'll slow-dance with you. Just once, to celebrate. All right?"

"Deal!" A suddenly confident Arthur blew him a kiss.

"Your tie looks like shit," Lovino then told him.

"Er – can you fix it for me?"

"Yes, idiot. I don't want you looking inept in front of all of Rome." He tied the tie.

"In front of all of Rome? How many people are going to be at this place?"

"Ah, I overreacted. Don't worry about it."

"Easy for you to say."

"Arthur, shut the fuck up, and let's go meet Feli and the stupid potato bastard."

"Yes, boss – er – Lovino."

"Dammit."

…

"Ve!" They hadn't seen their friends yet on this trip; tonight was the only chance they'd had to get together. Arthur noted that both of them had stepped it up in the wardrobe department: Ludwig was wearing a somber tuxedo, but Feliciano looked festive in a dove-grey suit with matching silk tie.

"Hello," he laughed, shaking Ludwig's hand while Lovino and Feli embraced. Feli turned to hug him, and Lovino – as usual – shook Ludwig's hand with the minimum amount of fuss.

"Ve, you two look great. Not jet-lagged any longer?"

"Cheh, no, we've been here a few days. Everything's fine. You look good too."

"Both of you do," Arthur added quickly, and Lovino gave him a wry smile.

"Come on, our table is ready." Feliciano led them to the table.

Arthur liked this restaurant. It was more refined than Morton's, which was the classiest place he'd been to with Lovino. But Morton's had a distinctly American feel to it, while this one was more subdued, more restrained and elegant.

"Why don't you choose the wine for tonight, Lovi? I know you probably have a pretty limited selection in America, don't you?"

"It's not too bad," Lovino admitted. "If you know where to go." But he cast an eye over the wine list, nodding appreciatively at a few of the choices.

When the waiter had taken their orders, the four sat back. "This sounds like a very interesting vacation the two of you are taking." Ludwig smiled at them.

"I'm quite excited about it." Arthur briefly explained their itinerary. He didn't know whether their friends knew of the possible relocation, so he didn't say why Zurich featured so prominently in the travel plans. It could lead to awkwardness if Lovino hadn't mentioned the long-term plan.

But his worries were assuaged in another minute as Feli said, "I hope you do end up living in Switzerland. I like the scenery there, and of course it's so convenient to travel through Switzerland when we go to Germany, but I've never really felt comfortable with the culture. But it would be great to have you so close by! We could do lots of things together, ve!"

Arthur pinched Lovino under the table before he could make any sarcastic Ludwig-related remarks. "I'm more worried about the language than anything else. Lovino doesn't want to – well, he wants to be somewhere they speak Italian, of course." The food came and they began to eat.

"But they don't speak Italian much in Zurich," Ludwig pointed out. "It's closer to Germany. You'd need to be on the south end of Switzerland to get the Italian."

"Dammit."

"Eh, we'll figure something out," Arthur hurriedly interjected. "We're going to make it a point to stop in as many museums as possible, too. Lovino's indulging me. I – I want to look for all the artworks we shipped off. See how they look in their new homes." He fiddled with his fork.

Lovino turned to him in surprise. "_That's_ why you're dragging me there?"

Arthur was taken aback. "Well, if it – if I'm actually _dragging_ you, then of course you don't have to go with me." He picked up the spoon this time and rubbed his thumb along it. Blast.

"Don't be silly. I'm happy to go. I just didn't know you had an ulterior motive." Lovino nudged him with an elbow.

"Ve, will the two of you be dancing tonight? Lovi, I have never once seen you dancing, not even when your mamma got remarried."

Lovino blushed. "And you never will, idiot. You never see me dancing because I don't like to dance."

"Oh. Ve," his friend said sadly. "Ludwig and I love to dance, don't we?"

"I like to do anything that makes you happy, Feliciano." Ludwig turned a little red as he said this, and Arthur saw Lovino roll his eyes, but Feli smiled softly at his big blond boyfriend.

"I know you do, Ludwig. I like to make you happy too, ve."

Lovino closed his eyes, so Arthur started casting around for an innocuous topic of conversation. "Are you doing anything fun for the holidays?" Ah. Lovino opened his eyes and smiled at him. Good.

"We're actually going to Germany next week to spend the holidays with Ludi's family. I've met them, but we haven't spent a lot of time there."

"Whereabouts in Germany are they?"

"In Stuttgart. Quite close to Zurich, actually."

Bollocks. This conversation was getting dangerous; he could almost feel the head of steam Lovino was building up. "Lovino tells me the two of you have been taking dancing lessons," he said desperately, knowing it was ill-mannered to change the topic so abruptly, but not knowing how else to defuse his friend's tension.

"We certainly have, ve, although Ludwig was already a very good dancer even before we started our lessons. I'm the one who really needs the work." Feli shrugged self-effacingly.

"Do you go dancing a lot?" Arthur was quite relieved that his gaffe had passed over so smoothly, although perhaps Feliciano knew why he'd done it.

"Not so much. We're both so busy with work. But we practice together a lot!" Feli beamed at them.

The servers brought the meal. Conversation at this point was random, mostly between Feliciano and Lovino, although the others did participate. By the time the main course was completed, the music had begun, and Feli tugged at Ludwig's hand. "Oh, come on, ve, Ludi. Let's dance the first waltz."

Ludwig blushed bright red, astonishing Arthur, but acquiesced. They moved off to the dance floor.

"Bastard. Thanks for helping out."

"It's not a problem, you know that." Arthur watched the other restaurant patrons. Nobody seemed too bothered to see the two men waltzing together. "Did you ever actually learn these fancy kinds of dances?"

"Yes. Dammit, I hate all that society shit. But yes. I had to learn to do them; we learned at prep school. It was pretty fucking stupid. Cheh. Good thing Roderich was a good dancer."

"Roderich?"

"My roommate. We got partnered up for dancing all the time. I went to an all-boys' school and always felt like an ass trying to waltz with other boys."

Arthur grinned. "But that's good, though. Then when we dance together you'll be used to it."

"Shut the hell up! _Chigi!_"

Arthur pouted a very fake pout; this then made Lovino laugh, and he patted his friend on the arm. "Sorry. But…please don't talk about that – that intimate kind of stuff in public. All right?"

"Sure. Whatever makes you happy. But you realize no one could hear me."

"Yes, yes, I realize it. Still…oh, brace yourself, here they come."

Ludwig led Feliciano back to the table and they sat. Lovino ordered a pot of coffee for them all; they perused the dessert menu.

"I'm going to order zabaglione," Arthur decided. "We had it last Christmas eve together, remember?"

Oops.

But Lovino didn't get angry. "I do remember. I'll have some too." He nudged Arthur under the table.

…

When Ludwig and Feli left for another dance Arthur hastened to bring up the topic of Zurich. "I hadn't realized it was so specifically German. I should probably have guessed, from the name. Do you – do you want to change the plan? Stay somewhere in the south of Switzerland?"

"You're pretty good to me."

"I know, wanker. It's my job."

Lovino poked him. "You're a sarcastic bastard, is what you are."

"Ow. Yes, I know that too. _Do_ you want to change the plan?"

"Cheh. I don't mind vacationing in Zurich now, but I definitely don't want to consider it for a place to live. I wonder how I could have been so fucking stupid about it."

"Well, we both were, sort of. Eh, let's talk about it later tonight, or else maybe tomorrow over breakfast?"

"Sounds like a plan, accommodating boy. Now shut up, the potato bastard's on his way back."

Arthur smirked and drank his coffee.

…

After the pleasant dinner they walked back to the hotel, since it was a clear night. Ludwig and Feliciano were finishing up their travel packing for an early departure the next day, so they'd cut the socializing short, promising to touch base before Arthur and Lovino returned to America.

When they reached the hotel room Lovino turned on the small television.

"Bloody hell, now you want to watch the telly? It's midnight!"

"Just shut up a minute. Don't get undressed yet."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, but Lovino wasn't looking at him; he fiddled with the television until music began pouring out.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell's going on?"

"Come over here," Lovino demanded, pointing to the open space by the window. Then he turned off the overhead lights.

Arthur now suspected what was going on. He stood in front of his friend, who blushed and held him close. "I – I kind of like the idea of dancing with you, too, now," Lovino murmured. "Just once." A slow song began to pour quietly out of the speakers. Smiling, Arthur wrapped his arms around Lovino, and they danced one dance together in the darkened hotel room.

Arthur turned his head to whisper into Lovino's ear. "Sentimental git."

"Don't tease me about it, bastard, or I'll stop and never do it again."

"My lips are sealed."

"Nh. No. Unseal them and kiss me." Lovino tipped his head a little and Arthur brought his lips closer to kiss him.

"What a wonderful Christmas this is going to be," Arthur then mused, as the song stopped and they stepped apart.

"Yes." Lovino turned the television off. "And now you can get undressed." He grinned at Arthur and yanked on the bowtie, untying it. "Unless you want me to help you."

"Help me, loverboy," he laughed, and Lovino complied.

…


	72. Christmas

**Christmas.** (Norman Rockwell, Saturday Evening Post cover, December 6, 1930)

Arthur awoke very early on Christmas morning to the sight of Lovino, in pajamas, struggling to tape cardboard ornaments high on the wall of the hotel room by the glow of the table lamp, which was now covered with some kind of fabric to dim it. Lying in the bed, amused, he watched his friend stretch out tall and try to get the tape to stick to the textured cream wallpaper. He heard a murmured "Dammit." An ornament fell off. Lovino tried again, and the ornament fell again. Arthur then heard a flurry of whispers he could only assume to be Italian curses, before Lovino jumped up and smacked the tape into place. The ornament fell down again. "Fuck."

"What a dainty wake-up call."

Lovino let out a little yelp and turned to face him. "Bastard. How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to see that you're the most adorable git in the entire world. Come and give me a holiday hug." He sat up.

"Dammit." But Lovino came over and gave him his hug.

"Nice decorations," Arthur then said airily, tickling him under the chin.

Lovino started laughing. "Bastard. I wanted to do something sweet for you, like you did at home. But the fucking tape won't stick to the wall."

"I gathered that."

"Shut up."

"I appreciate the gesture, though." Arthur kissed him. "It's just nice to be waking up with you on Christmas, you know."

"I do know." Lovino snuggled in closer. "Listen, would – would you go to Mass with me today? I know last year you didn't want to, but maybe this year?"

"Eh, but I don't know anything about it! And I've never really been religious, not even back in England." Arthur tried not to panic, because he could see that Lovino really wanted him to go. Could he do this without appearing ignorant?

"Well, if you're willing to go, we could sit in the back of the church, so you wouldn't feel too – I don't know, on display or whatever? Really the only thing you'd need to worry about is standing or sitting or kneeling at the right time." Lovino seemed to think about this. "There's a lot of that. But I can help you with it."

"I thought you're not allowed to talk in church?"

"You can whisper, if you're discreet about it, but yeah, you're not supposed to be having conversations. But I can help you. Will you go? As a gift to me?"

Lovino must have known that asking that way would crumble Arthur's resolve. He reached out a hand and stroked the dark hair. "If it means that much to you."

"Uh, well. Yes. I…have been feeling very thankful for you, and being together with you at Christmas Mass seems like a very…festive...way of being thankful." He looked down and started twisting his fingers together nervously.

"Then of course I will. I feel pretty thankful and festive about you, too." He took Lovino's hand and kissed it. "How soon do we need to leave? How do I need to dress?" Arthur got out of the bed.

"Just a plain suit will be fine. We should leave in a half hour." Lovino was practically beaming at him. Arthur was glad he'd agreed to go; this seemed like another good gift for his friend.

…

They wandered hand-in-hand around Rome after Mass, enjoying the clear day and the crowds of merrymakers. "Let's go back to the hotel," Arthur eventually suggested. "I'm a little tired."

"Whatever you like. We can have a nap?"

"I would love a nap," Arthur admitted. "Woke up too early today; some crabby elf was trying to hang ornaments in my room."

This made Lovino laugh. "Bastard, you're so much fun."

"You too, crabby elf."

…

"Can your nap wait? I have a present for you," Lovino told him, almost shyly, when they got back to the hotel room.

"Oh! That's nice of you. I have two for you, but one of them you can't have until we get back home."

"What? Why not?"

"Too big to bring along. Anyway, it's for the house; I thought it would make more sense to give it to you there. It'd be stupid to cart it all over Europe. Hold on, I'll get the other one." He rummaged in his suitcase and brought out a smallish package.

"Come and sit." Lovino drew a box out of the hotel closet while Arthur sat on the sofa. He hoped it was something reasonable.

"I, uh, well, I noticed you didn't have one of these. I thought maybe you didn't want to drag one over on the airplane, but now that we're here, it won't take up too much room in the car." He handed Arthur the box; Arthur handed him the package.

"Who's going first?"

Lovino plunked down onto the sofa. "You, bastard. Open it."

It was not gift-wrapped, just in a plain brown box taped shut. Arthur gingerly opened it while looking at Lovino.

"Look in the damn box, not at me!"

"But you're nice to look at," Arthur said to his now-blushing friend. Then he turned his attention to the gift.

Inside the box he found something made of wood. "An – an _easel_?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well – well, yes, it's a travel easel. For watercolors. You can – can –"

But Lovino was interrupted as Arthur leaned over to hug him. "Thank you, thank you! I forgot about getting a travel easel when I was stocking up at home. This will be really handy on the trip! I hope we have some nice weather so I can paint outside once in a while." He kissed Lovino firmly, very pleased with the thoughtful gift; he hadn't been too inspired yet on the trip, because he found it so difficult to juggle his painting things without the support of an easel.

"You really like it?"

"Of course I do." They shared another kiss, this one sweeter. "In fact, let me open it now and paint something. You're awesome," he said, moving back to the gift box. "Open your present first, though, before I start."

Lovino slowly unwrapped Arthur's gift and found a little journal. "A diary?"

"It's – well, it _was_ a blank book. Now – just – just look inside." Arthur closed his eyes while Lovino looked. He always felt so vulnerable about things like this.

"Arthur, what? What is it? I mean, I see it's full of little paintings, and that's adorable. You –?"

The blond blew out a violent breath. "It's – well, it's sort of like a memory book, I suppose. I had the idea for it last winter, you know, after we – we started dating?"

Lovino nodded. He was still leafing through the book.

"I wanted to do a painting of Great Falls, from where we had been sitting, and you know, at that point we weren't living together, weren't even talking about that yet. But I didn't want to paint the same thing twice, once for your home and once for mine, so I had this idea for the book. All – all the things we've done together – well, a lot of them – I've painted, and they're in that book. And I made notes of the different places, and when I could remember the dates I put those in, too."

"This is another brilliant idea. This is awesome! Arthur, you painted the dinner table from Valentine's Day? And here's my car factory…the giant calculator…all these things we've done together." Lovino's voice had gotten very soft. "You constantly amaze me. Remember that discussion we had about who's the luckiest man in the world? It's definitely me."

Arthur laughed with relief. "I'd still argue the point."

But then Lovino burst out laughing as he looked through the book. "Bastard, you painted this?"

The blond knew just what painting he was laughing at. "Well, it's a pretty important piece of furniture."

"But you painted little hearts all around it. That's so fucking cute. I might have to have it reupholstered now, to match."

"Oh, don't. It's – like a sofa shrine." Arthur started laughing; Lovino closed the little book and leaned up next to him.

"Will – will you keep making these? So we can have a whole collection? This is a beautiful gift. Thank you."

"Of course I will, if you like. Maybe you can help me with it, now. When you see something you want in the book, tell me, and I'll put it in there. But I'll need to get another blank book."

"Good point. We can go get one tomorrow?"

"You really like it that much?"

"Yes, idiot." He kissed him. "I like everything you do for me." Lovino looked at the box with the easel. "Do you want to test out your easel? Paint something now?"

"Yes, but what?" He looked around the room.

"Don't paint me, bastard."

"Fine. I'll paint the ornaments you hung up for me." Working together, using a whole roll of tape, they'd managed to get five or six of the cardboard ornaments to stay in place, although one was hanging a little crooked.

"That's all right; I don't mind that. Are you hungry? I can order some room service?"

"Yes. You know me, once I start painting, I won't want to leave the room until I'm done. Room service would be perfectly fine."

"Anything special you want?" Lovino asked, heading for the menu.

"Eh. Can't think of anything. Tea, I guess, but otherwise I'm sure whatever you choose will be good." He busied himself setting up a little work area while his friend placed the call.

…

"It really doesn't make you nervous when I watch you paint?" Lovino asked him, as they got ready for bed that night.

"No. Why would it?"

The brunet shrugged. "I don't know. I hate having people watch me do stuff. Type, work on the computer, or whatever. I had a lot of problems taking tests in school, because teachers would always hover around and it made me nervous."

Arthur ruffled his hair. "Poor little wanker."

"Shut up, you idiot."

"Make me."

"I will, dammit. Watch me." Lovino laughed and kissed him.

…

A little while later:

"Oh – _oh – _yes_ –"_ Arthur slumped back on the pillows.

Lovino licked his lips with a mischievous grin. "Merry Christmas, delicious bastard."


	73. Café Gurzuf

_Over 200 reviews! Let's celebrate with another update._

…

**Café Gurzuf. **(Alexander Nikolayevich Samokhvalov, oil on board, 1956)

Lovino wandered down a busy city street in Florence, looking for a café where he could relax. It was early enough in their visit that they hadn't settled into a routine yet, but Arthur had desperately wanted to paint this morning. He had set up his little travel easel outside the famous Uffizi Gallery, joining a few other artists, some musicians, and the visitors to the famous museum. They'd spent all day yesterday in the gallery, even though none of Lovino's family artworks had been sent there. And Lovino had been right: touring museums with Arthur was much more interesting than going through them alone, or with some kind of anonymous tour group. He'd actually enjoyed it, asking his friend questions, offering critiques that had grown more and more confident as the day had progressed. Lovino hoped this was an indication of things to come.

But today he'd felt antsy about watching Arthur paint, so he had chosen to go on an exploratory stroll.

Ah, there was a little place right there. He went inside and ordered a latte. Lovino moved to a seat in the back of the café, removing his gloves, and relaxed while he waited for the drink.

The vacation had been great so far. He felt quite peaceful, traveling around with Arthur, and not tense at all, even when there were hitches in the traveling plans. The Ferrari had gotten a flat tire en route from Rome to Florence, but they'd simply dealt with it and moved on. Two years ago, he knew, he'd have exploded dangerously with anger at something like that. He smiled a little, thinking about how refreshing it was to be with Arthur. Lovino really liked the new pace of his life since they'd met.

The barista, a dark-haired man with a sunny smile, brought him his coffee. "_Grazie_," he said, with a heavy Spanish accent. Lovino nodded politely and accepted the mug before returning to his musings.

When he stood to leave, the Spanish man beamed brilliantly at him. Lovino returned the smile and left the café.

…

"How was the painting session?" he remembered to ask later, after an afternoon sightseeing.

"Oh, Lovino!" Arthur kissed him warmly. "Florence is so beautiful, and I'm so happy to be here with you and paint at the Uffizi. The _Uffizi_! Never would have guessed I might visit it someday. I have a beautiful architectural painting sketched out, but it won't be done for a while."

"Well, there's no rush," Lovino laughed. "We're here for a while, you know."

"Yes. I just wish it was a little warmer. My hands got too cold and I had to stop."

Here, Lovino narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Bastard. You don't wear gloves."

"Correct. Can't manipulate the pencils or brushes."

"Idiot." But Lovino took his hands and kissed them. "Beautiful artist's hands. We'll have to see if there's a way to get around that."

Arthur smiled at him. "What did you do while I was painting? Did you amuse yourself?"

"Nothing special. Went to a little café, had a latte." Here, the memory of the Spanish barista floated into his mind, and he shrugged. "Thought about how good this vacation is, so far."

"I'm glad you're having fun. I'd hate to be traveling with you if you weren't. You'd be a real bastard."

"Shut up. Come on, let's go get some dinner."

…

The next day dawned bright and clear, a little warmer than previously. "Are you going to paint today, bastard?"

"Sketch and paint, yes, if you really don't mind. I – I feel a little stupid, abandoning you while I lark around painting."

"Maybe I'll sit with you while you work."

"That's fine with me, if you don't think you'll get too bored."

"Ah, I'll bring my spanking new e-reader. If it gets too cold I can go wander off somewhere."

Arthur turned and looked at him in concern. "But – but seriously, Lovino. If it's going to bother you that I'm doing this, I can save it. I don't need to do it every day."

"Bastard, it wouldn't be a vacation for you if you didn't get to do some of the things you want. Just let me know when you want to paint and when you want to sightsee." Lovino ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. "All right? Don't leave me hanging."

"I won't. Well, then, I'll just work on this in the mornings for a few days. Then I can get it done, and we can be free the rest of the day. Shall we go to breakfast?"

"Sure. Let's go to that little café I found. This early in the day, it might be pretty empty."

…

Later, when Arthur sat to paint, Lovino tried to read, but every time he tried to talk to Arthur, the blond responded with a grunt rather than focusing on the conversation. "Hey." He tapped him on the shoulder.

Arthur finally looked up with a smile. "Yes?"

"I'm going to go walk around a little. It's hard to read with the sunlight on the screen, and you're not paying attention to me anyway." He laughed.

"Do you want me to stop? We can go do something else. I don't mind."

"No, don't worry about it. I'll go get a cup of coffee and read in that little café. All right? Come get me when you're done."

"Er – it's over that way, right?" He pointed, and Lovino nodded. "Right. See you in, oh, an hour? Maybe two?"

"That's fine." Lovino patted his cheek with his gloved hand. "Don't let your hands get too cold."

"Don't worry. See you soon."

…

Lovino was glad he'd found the little café; he always liked to find a landmark place to use as a base when he traveled on long trips, although he hadn't been on a long trip like this in a while. He noticed the Spanish barista was not here today; an older Italian woman brought him his coffee with a smile.

He pulled out his glasses and e-reader and began to read, and almost didn't notice it when the seat next to him was taken. "Excuse me," the Spanish voice said.

Lovino raised his gaze, blinking, and blushed a little at the man's proximity. "Yes?"

"I wondered whether you would like a refill of your coffee."

Well, then why the hell was the bastard sitting at the table? Shouldn't he be working? "_S__ì__._" He pushed the mug across the table. "_Grazie_."

"I'll be right back."

But when the man came back, instead of handing Lovino the mug, he sat once again. "My name is Antonio," he smiled, placing the latte on the table. "You are new in Florence?"

"Just visiting," Lovino replied curtly, focusing on the hot drink. Dammit, he wanted to read, not chat.

But the man – Antonio – only made pleasant tourist-related conversation for a minute before rising and returning to the counter. Lovino shrugged, alternating reading his book and glancing around the café, idly sipping coffee, until he saw Arthur approaching outside. Lovino shoved the e-reader into his bag, took the glasses off, and left, nodding at Antonio as he did so.

…

"One more day, and I should be done with the painting. At least the part that needs to be done in situ. I can do the rest here in the hotel at night, or even save it for when we get back to Washington."

"Well, that's good. You're pretty quick."

"Years of practice, my sweet friend, years of practice. Can we have dinner somewhere low-key tonight? I'm feeling kind of tired."

"Of course we can, bastard. Let's wander around." Lovino was also finding their dinners to be a very pleasant experience. Usually when he traveled, he only sought out high-end places, places where he wouldn't feel self-conscious as a traveler dining alone. Usually the hotel's restaurant. He felt almost sneaky, eating with Arthur at little restaurants sandwiched between bookstores and boutiques, or having coffee at tiny unremarkable cafés like the one he'd been frequenting. Felt like a kid again, instead of a high-powered businessman. He liked this a lot.

"Arthur," he now asked, "may I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course you may. You should know that by now."

"H-how, when, when did you realize you – uh – you preferred men over women?" He felt himself blushing and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Oh. Well, almost all my life, I guess, but I – I tried to fight it for a long time, when I was a teenager. I knew society considered it wrong, so I kept trying to retrain myself to look at girls the same way. It just didn't work."

"I remember you saying once that you hadn't gone on a date until you were twenty. Man or woman?" he asked quickly, hoping to get over his embarrassment.

"Woman," Arthur admitted quietly. "It – it was such a disaster I decided never to even try that again. It seemed – seemed more sensible to just, just not date at all, instead of having either the torture of trying to date a woman, or the society problems of trying to date a man." He paused. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"What about? Dating you? Of course not. I – I had to make a big mental adjustment to be with you, you know, but I did. And I haven't regretted it yet."

"I promise you never will," Arthur smiled.

They came to a smallish restaurant, delicious smells floating from the doorway as it opened and closed. "Want to try this place?"

"You know me. I'll –"

"Eat anything, I know," Lovino sighed. "Sure. Let's go in."

…

_This little subplot was inspired by a PM from Tailsdoll123 many chapters ago. Stay tuned._


	74. Boulevard Montmartre: Spring Rain

**Boulevard Montmartre: Spring Rain.** (Camille Pissarro, oil on canvas, 1898)

Today was the last day Arthur planned to spend on his outdoor Uffizi artwork. They split up at the hotel this time with a brief kiss; Lovino directed his steps towards the café, for lack of anything better to do. One thing he wanted to do, while they were on this vacation, was to go on a shopping spree. He was pretty sure Arthur hadn't ever experienced the kind of elitist service that European tailors and boutiques could provide, and he was also tired of repeatedly looking at the blond's few off-the-rack suits, which had grown noticeably shabbier with frequent wear. Lovino was going to treat him to as much of a new and elegant custom-made wardrobe as he might want. Hm. Might save that for Paris. Yes. They were planning to spend a few weeks there, so that would be ideal.

Lovino ordered his drink from Antonio and sat in the back to read again. He was almost finished with this book. Maybe he could finish it today. He was eagerly looking forward to the sequel. Pleased that Arthur had talked him into an e-reader, too. It really did make a lot more sense than dragging a bunch of books around.

Soon the queue of customers had been dealt with and Antonio came over to sit with him again. This time, the Spaniard sat right next to him. "You don't seem to be having a very enjoyable vacation, _amigo_, if you're spending it all reading in a little café."

Lovino shifted his chair away slightly. He glanced briefly out the window at the now-rainy morning. "It's all right," he tried to reply politely. "My – my friend is busy for a few days." He again felt himself blushing as he met Antonio's green eyes, eyes that reminded him of Arthur's. Lovino smiled softly, thinking of his friend.

Antonio drew an audible breath. "You're breathtaking when you smile like that," he cooed, taking Lovino's hand where it rested on the table and raising it to his lips for a kiss.

The Italian froze in place, not even remembering to pull his hand away. "_Chigi!_" he finally hissed. "Don't –"

Suddenly they heard a loud clatter from the front of the room and the slam of the door. Everyone in the café looked up to see Arthur's pochade box and easel bouncing on the floor; through the window, Lovino could see the blond head disappearing into the rainy distance.

_Fuck._

Lovino scowled at the café owner and yanked his hand away. "Get out of my way, you fucking bastard," he hissed, shoving the man aside; the chair wobbled, but did not fall.

Antonio sat amazed as Lovino threw his things into his bag and then hurried to carefully pick up Arthur's supplies. Other patrons of the café lost interest and returned to their drinks and conversation.

Lovino was intensely upset. How could he not have grasped what that jackass was leading up to? Fucking hell! He finished packing everything up and stormed out of the little building, darting an infuriated look at the confused Spaniard before slamming the door behind him.

He couldn't see Arthur, who had run off to the left, but the hotel was in the other direction. And now Lovino was laden with the easel, the supply box, and his own messenger bag. Dammit, he didn't even know where to start. He stood under the café's little awning, trying to straighten out his thoughts.

Well, if he kept standing in the rain, Arthur's paintings might get wet and the paint might run. Probably the best thing to do was to go to the hotel room and put all the things away. Arthur might have gone back there, anyway. Lovino hailed a cab and they rolled away towards the hotel.

…

In the room, where Arthur was not waiting, he set everything on the bed and opened the pochade box to make sure the paintings hadn't been damaged by the rain.

Oh, no. Arthur had been keeping his wallet in there. Good thing Lovino had collected it. He put it into his coat pocket and turned to leave again, to go find his friend. Without a wallet, Arthur was stuck: couldn't take a cab, couldn't take a bus. That Spanish fucker had a lot to answer for, dammit. Not that Lovino ever planned to go back there.

He ran down the hotel steps and out the door. Lovino didn't want to get rained on, but it would be difficult to spot Arthur from the back seat of a cab. He turned his coat collar up against the rain and began to walk, scanning the heads of the few scurrying passersby for the shining blond hair.

As he stormed around Florence, alternately fuming and panicking, he suddenly remembered that conversation they'd had last night, about Arthur's sexual orientation. Lovino stopped fuming and turned to full-on panic when he realized he might have sounded more interested in men than he'd previously let on. "Dammit!" he growled, still keeping his eyes on the dwindling street crowds for his friend. He hoped Arthur hadn't gone into a building. He'd never find him, in that case.

Lovino wandered in the rain for hours, frustrated tears eventually mingling with the raindrops on his face, desperately wanting to put it all right between them. Arthur was the brightest part of his life, the anchor, the comfort that he had been lacking all these years. He – he cared for him so much, and didn't want to lose him. He wouldn't lose him, dammit. Lovino knew he'd abase himself as much as necessary to set this stupid situation right. But he would _not_ lose Arthur over this.

Assuming he could ever find him! Florence seemed fucking _huge _today, and he had terrible visibility because of the rain and his never-ending tears. He was cold and irritated and very much afraid. What if Arthur had run away? Left Florence, and Lovino? But no. He wouldn't do that. Even if he wanted to get away, he – he'd surely come back to get his things? He couldn't go far without his wallet, anyway. Lovino patted his coat pocket to make sure the wallet was secure; it was.

Cars kept driving past and splashing him. Lovino was pissed off and miserable. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, stamping his foot just to vent.

He turned to recross the Ponte Vecchio, but once in the center of the bridge, he stopped to take a breather. Lost in despair, Lovino stood for nearly an hour watching the rain fall to join the great Arno, carrying his tears out to Pisa and the sea.

…


	75. The Day of Judgment

**The Day of Judgment.** (Fra Angelico, tempera on panel, 1431)

Arthur was lost, physically and emotionally. He'd felt his heart plummet into his sturdy boots when he'd come into the café and seen Lovino blushing, so close to that dark man, both smiling sweetly at each other. When he'd seen that man holding and kissing Lovino's hand. Arthur had run and run in the rain, dodging and jinking down alleyways, until he couldn't run anymore. He leaned against the outside of a bakery and tried to get his breath back, not yet wanting to think about it, hearing only the words "Just like Alfred – just like Alfred" repeating over and over in his brain.

He then paced around and around the same city block, drenched and half-crazed, for probably twenty minutes, long after he'd stopped wheezing. Wondering what to do. He didn't want to go back to the hotel or encounter Lovino at all. Didn't want to see the pity in his friend's eyes, when he'd no doubt tell Arthur he'd moved on. No wonder Lovino had asked about his sexual orientation. He was probably getting more and more comfortable with the idea, himself, and wanted some kind of validation before branching out with that man in the café, or anyone else. Or maybe he'd gotten together with that man _before_ asking the question.

"Bugger!" Arthur kicked the wall of a shop, earning a glare from a wet passing bicyclist.

Well, moping around in the rain wasn't going to solve anything. Best go get it over with.

He turned and began trudging back towards the hotel. He felt like an arse about dropping his art supplies, too. It had been a childish reaction that made him look stupid in front of Lovino, but it also infuriated him because now he no longer had his things. Maybe – maybe Lovino and the dark man were sharing a dismissive chuckle over Arthur's sketches? Or maybe Lovino had ignored them, and someone else had taken them, or had thrown everything in the trash. He'd need to return to that blasted café and see if he could get them back. Quite possibly this was the very last thing he wanted to do, in the entire world.

And he'd stuck his bloody wallet into the pochade box! Idiotic. Now he couldn't even get a cab back to the hotel. Rain beat down on him, chilling him almost as much as the fears in his heart.

The worst thing, he considered, the absolute worst thing was feeling like such a loser. _Again._ He felt tears spring to his eyes and let the rain wash them down his face while he kept walking. An old, lonely loser, that's how he'd end up. Sad, stupid and weak. Bollocks.

After an hour of sodden wandering – during which time he knew he should have been able to find either the hotel or a landmark he recognized, but hadn't – he was more irritated with himself about being lost, than anything else. And he was still mad about his art supplies, but could not bring himself to go back to that café for them yet. Even if he could find the place, which at this point was looking doubtful. Arthur was completely soaked and _bloody annoyed_.

What the hell, he thought, and splashed over to a deserted park bench nearby. He might as well think this through. It wasn't as though he could get any wetter, at this point.

And once he had sat down to think about it sensibly, he was completely baffled by what he'd seen in the café. Lovino had not once, not ever, shown any interest in anyone else, man or woman, even before he'd started dating Arthur. He just wasn't the kind of man to randomly try to pick up a stranger, or to allow a stranger to get that far with him, especially another man. It just didn't make sense. Perhaps this man was an old lover. But no. Lovino had always been very against the idea of men dating.

Maybe Arthur had misunderstood what he'd seen? Until that scene this morning, Arthur had been quite confident in his relationship with Lovino, thought that his friend truly cared for him. He had assumed – perhaps unwisely – that they were committed to each other. Weren't they? Maybe Lovino didn't really think that way yet. Maybe now he never would.

Blast, it was still raining, and he was freezing now and couldn't concentrate any more on this painful situation, only on the harsh pounding of raindrops on his skull. His clothes, this coat, would be ruined. Arthur got up and started walking again, aching wet hands in wetter pockets, thoughts still swirling around like autumn leaves in a whirlwind. At least he wasn't crying any longer, just feeling really, really adrift.

Arthur rounded a corner and saw the Duomo in the far distance. Ah. At last, a landmark he recognized. In the cold rain it would feel like hours walking there. Once again he cursed himself for not carrying his wallet with him, hoping he could get it back somehow, and began the long trudge to the famous cathedral.

…


	76. Fireworks Over the River Arno

**Fireworks over the River Arno.** (Giovanni Signorini, oil on canvas, year unknown)

Lovino sniffled one last time and futilely wiped the tears from his face; they were immediately replaced by raindrops. He squared his shoulders and tried to think logically about where Arthur might be now.

He might have gone back to the hotel.

He might have gone back to the café to look for his things. Fuck that. Lovino was _not_ going back there.

Well. He might go back there if he couldn't find him anywhere else.

Or Arthur might still be wandering around.

His immediate decision took him back to the hotel, where there was no sign of Arthur, no sign that he'd been back. Lovino changed into dry clothes, sparing a few minutes to towel-dry his soaked hair, and grabbed a different coat in order to go out and look again.

If Arthur had, in fact, gone to the café, he would probably not have lingered. So Lovino didn't have to go there.

Maybe he'd gone to the Uffizi? Lovino knew that looking at beautiful art always made his friend happy. Maybe he was walking the halls, gazing at works by others, trying to soothe his soul? But – but in that case, it would be quite, quite difficult to locate him, and Lovino felt too stressed to put on a public face and politely wander the halls of the enormous gallery. Besides the fact that he was already soaked to the fucking skin again!

Lovino decided to do something he hadn't seriously done in years. It was the only thing he could think of that might help him. He began to pray, and decided to walk to the Duomo. Being in the hushed cathedral would calm him down and allow him to think more clearly. Maybe he could pray in one of the chapels; maybe – maybe Arthur was there? That was doubtful, but…he couldn't be certain.

What if they didn't let him in because he was sopping wet? "That fucking Spanish _bastard_!" Lovino screamed. He kicked a lamppost and quickened his steps, trying to focus on a prayer that would help pacify him.

Head down, he eventually reached the Piazza del Duomo and bumped right into someone. He excused himself; the woman scurried off in the rain. Lovino slipped inside.

Ah. As he'd hoped, the quiet – and dry – atmosphere was already beginning to soothe him. He took a deep breath, smelling the residual incense, and moved to the side of the vestibule near a well-lit votive display. Out of respect, he remained near the candles, his clothes slowly dripping, rather than pushing further into the building. Other visitors passed by on their individual missions. Closing his eyes, Lovino stood to the side and prayed.

And as he felt the peace of the place entering his heart, he knew it would come out all right, if he could only find his friend. He knew that by now Arthur would be repenting of his hasty flight, and Lovino knew exactly what to say to his friend to put it all right. He drew a few more slow breaths. Lovino would head back to the hotel. It would be all right. It _would_.

Lovino felt a soft touch on his shoulder. His eyes flew open. Arthur?

"_Amigo,_ you're soaked to the skin!"

He could not believe it. This was just _too fucking_ _brutal._ All he wanted was to find Arthur, and he kept ending up with this bastard! "Don't be babbling in the church, you jackass," he whispered, pushing Antonio backwards towards the doors. He was going to drag this fucker out there and have it out with him; he was instantly angry again, and this bastard had dumped him into a whole day of frustrated misery. Somebody had to pay for it, and it wasn't going to be Lovino.

Antonio, clearly not understanding, shrugged and walked outside, opening his umbrella, waiting for him. Well, fuck that. Lovino might be cold and drenched, but he was not going to share an umbrella with the Spanish bastard. Bracing himself against the rain, he stepped past an older couple and through the heavy doors. He immediately shoved Antonio from behind, hissing "_Vaffanculo_! You fucking bastard! How dare you _stalk me_? This whole day has been miserable and it's all your damn fault, you son of a whore!"

"Now, wait a minute, _amigo,_ just stop with the name-calling, will you? Why are you so upset? You don't look so beautiful when you're yelling at me."

Unbelievable! The bastard was _smiling_ at him. Lovino growled. "Look. Get away from me, stay away from me! I'm already with someone, someone I – I love, and I'm not interested in some stupid fling with a jackass like you." He shoved Antonio aside again, red-faced, clenching his hands into fists.

"I'm not stalking you, sweet little tomato," Antonio grinned, stepping back in front of Lovino. "I came to church. It was sheer luck that brought us together. Luck, or…destiny?" He reached out a hand to caress Lovino's cheek; the Italian smacked his hand away. "And I don't even know your name."

"_Chigi!"_ Lovino knew it was bad form to be shouting in the street, especially in front of the cathedral, but this bastard was driving him nuts. Why wouldn't he leave him alone? Angry tears sprang to his eyes as he prepared for another verbal attack; he refused to start a fist fight out here. "You stupid –"

He saw Antonio frown and stumble – with no prompting from Lovino – and the umbrella wavered; the Spaniard turned around, recovering his inane grin.

And that inane grin met the fist on the end of Arthur's arm, very forcefully, very unexpectedly, with a loud, wet smacking sound. "Get away from him, tosser," Arthur snarled, as Antonio stumbled again. "He's not going anywhere with you."

This assault finally seemed to crack the Spaniard's composure. Dropping the umbrella, he stepped forward, punching Arthur in the stomach wordlessly. This time the blond faltered – but only for a second.

"That does it, you bloody bastard!" Arthur leaped on the frowning Antonio and the two of them began fighting in earnest. They wrestled on the wet road, pummeling each other fiercely, grunts and the smack of fists on flesh the only sounds. Passersby ignored them, as if this sort of thing was a daily occurrence. Maybe it was, or maybe the rain was simply distracting everyone.

Lovino, in a panic, saw blood begin to flow, but couldn't tell whose it was. Fuck, he hoped the bastard wasn't hurting Arthur –! But no. Arthur actually seemed to be winning; he was kneeling on top of Antonio, shaking him by the shirt and growling. Lovino felt as though his head were going to explode with frustration. "Arthur, no, stop!" he finally screamed. "Come away from him. Please!"

Arthur, on top of the Spaniard, drove his fist straight into Antonio's eye one last time, bashing the back of the man's head against the pavement. "I have better things to do than kick the shit out of you, you bloody son of a bitch. Go lick your wounds. Stay away from him." He stood up. It looked like he was going to kick Antonio in the head, but instead he brought the heel of his boot down to snap the handle of the abandoned umbrella.

_"Bastardo ingl__é__s," _Antonio whimpered, giving up the fight and dropping backwards to lie on the wet road.

Arthur began to limp towards Lovino. His face was covered in blood; one eye was beginning to swell. The rain made red streaks down his face as it washed the blood away, staining his torn and sodden coat.

Lovino came forward to meet his friend and cupped his wet, bruised face tenderly with both hands, checking for injuries. Wherever the blood had come from, it wasn't still flowing. Lovino then spared a glance to make sure Antonio wouldn't follow them, but the Spaniard was still lying in the road, now groping for his broken umbrella.

"Wh-why were you with him?" Arthur asked quietly.

Lovino's words tumbled out in a rush. "He – I guess he was…following me? I don't really know. I've been looking for you all day. I was so worried…I finally went inside the cathedral to calm down, and to – to pray for you. For us." He reached out and took Arthur's cold, wet hands, and Arthur let him. That was good. "This morning – I didn't understand, what he wanted, until – dammit." Lovino couldn't continue yet. He dropped Arthur's hands and bit his lip.

"But you were smiling at him. That beautiful smile –"

"He has green eyes," Lovino confessed simply, sadly. "I was looking at his eyes, but – but thinking of yours." He took a deep breath and his gaze slid to the side. He forced it back to meet those green eyes, shining in the center of the wet grey world like the promise of spring. "Did – did you hear what I said to him?" He could feel tears pricking behind his eyes, but kept them locked on his friend's, lips wobbling a little as they pressed together nervously.

"Yes." Arthur finally smiled, just a little. "That's what gave me the courage to hit him."

Lovino took his hands again. "I do love you, Arthur. So much. I wish I could have said it to you in a nicer place, somewhere picturesque, that we'd both remember forever, but – it's still true, no matter where I say it." He leaned his head to rest on Arthur's wet shoulder.

"You don't think we're going to remember this forever?" Lovino could hear the amusement in Arthur's voice. The blond drew him into an embrace, raising his head with a finger under his chin. "And oh, by the way," he murmured, "I love you, too."

Lovino laughed and laughed, releasing the fierce tension that had had him in its grip all day. "Oh, Arthur. What did I ever do without you?" He wrapped his arms around his friend and held on tight, tears of relief finally beginning to flow. Through their limp, wet clothing he could feel Arthur settling down and drawing deep satisfying breaths. The cold rain beat down harder, but Lovino didn't care. Arthur was in his arms, where he belonged.

…


	77. Guernica

**Guernica.** (Pablo Picasso, oil on canvas, 1937)

"Come along, _mio caro_, let's go back and dry off, and take care of you." Lovino pushed wet hair out of Arthur's eyes, kissing him again. He turned to make sure Antonio wouldn't follow, but the Spaniard was still lying weakly in the road. "You were awesome," he whispered happily, taking his friend's hand.

"Eh. I had very good motivation." Arthur hugged him again in the rain.

"But seriously, I had no idea you could fight like that. It was really impressive."

"I used to be a bit of a punk when I was younger," his friend admitted with a grin.

"You're _joking_."

"No."

"You mean with the chains and the boots and things?" Lovino's eyes grew wide.

"Yeah. Still have some of that stuff, somewhere in a box."

"I always liked that style, but I was afraid to look like an idiot wearing it."

Arthur hugged him. "When we get home you can try my things on, if I can find them."

"At this point I think I'd rather just look at you in it. I bet you'd look hotter than hell."

"Well, we'll find out when we get back, I guess. Come on; take me to the hotel, sweet thing. I'm freezing."

…

_Guernica is a good painting for the aftermath of a Spain battle._


	78. Plague

**Plague.** (Arnold Böcklin, tempera on wood, 1898)

"I'm so sorry." Lovino sneezed, reaching for the tissue box.

"Bless you."

"Bastard."

"Well, now you see how I felt! So much for your bloody indomitable constitution."

"You really are a fucking brutal bastard."

Arthur repented. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be brutal." He hugged his sick friend.

Lovino tried to push him away. "Arthur, please. It's bad enough that _I'm_ sick. I don't want you getting sick too. The way these fucking things work, I'll be getting better just when you start getting sick. We'll end up spending the whole Milan part of the trip in this damn hotel room." He sneezed again and punched his lap. "Dammit."

"Bless you."

"Bastard, I'm serious."

"Well, I know you are, sick boy, but…I don't want to go jaunting around the city while you're lying here in bed suffering. It's not so much of a problem at home, because I could go out and do errands, or whatever, but here? We're stuck."

Lovino grumbled, "Next time it rains we're spending the entire day in bed."

"Fine with me, as long as we're both healthy enough to play with each other." Arthur poked him in the navel.

"Ugh, don't even talk about sex while I'm sick. Ugh! Go wash the fucking germs off your hands and get out of the stupid hotel room for a while." He took a deep breath before coughing a little.

"All right. If you insist."

"I do insist." Lovino sneezed three times in quick succession.

"Bless you." Arthur shrugged and got off the bed to wash the germs off his hands. Well, he'd get out of the hotel room for a while, but he was jolly well going to do something nice for his friend while he was out.

…

He took his paints and easel to a little park nearby and began to paint in the new memory book. It was only the first week of the New Year and he'd already painted five little paintings in it, including the exterior of the Duomo (though he hadn't put the Spaniard into the painting; that would have been just too bloody excruciating). Arthur hadn't believed his ears at first, when he'd overheard Lovino say he loved him, but when he _had_ finally believed it, he'd been overwhelmed. To hear him say something so powerful – Lovino, who kept himself on such a tight rein, who still sometimes had problems accepting the "public shit" – that had truly been the most emotional moment of Arthur's life, bar none. Every day – every hour – he ran his mind back over that memory, and smiled. Hearing it had given him the courage to beat the snot out of that bloody Spanish bastard.

Arthur had known for quite a long time that he loved Lovino. Hadn't felt comfortable being the first to say it, though. For one thing, he wasn't sure how his friend would react; Arthur didn't want to frighten him off by being too clingy, saying things that he was not ready to hear. He still felt, as he'd felt from almost the day they'd met, that any furthering of their relationship would have to come from Lovino. The brunet wasn't used to relationships with men – he almost wasn't used to _any_ kind of relationship – and he would therefore have to set the pace. But Arthur also knew that once they returned home and Lovino saw his other Christmas present, he would understand that Arthur had loved him all along.

Here in the park he took a deep breath, thinking again about those precious moments outside the Duomo that had been followed by a wet walk to the hotel with smiling faces and soaring hearts. They'd changed into dry clothing and sat snuggled on the hotel sofa for hours, each of them sharing just a little more of his hopes and dreams for their future together. He'd painted that, too, the two of them on the sofa. At this rate the little book would be filled up before they even got back to America.

And then in the car, halfway between Florence and Milan, Lovino had sneezed.

And sneezed some more.

By the time they'd reached their hotel, he'd been in the middle of a full-blown cold, and he was even more of an irritable bastard when he was sick than he was when healthy. At this thought, Arthur snorted. But it had been almost a week now. How much longer could it take before Lovino's health started to return? He kept refusing to see a doctor, insisting it was just a cold, but Arthur was getting tired of the constant whinging.

He got back to his work. But while he was working he had an idea. Maybe they could stay longer in Milan, after Lovino got better, and lose some time in Zurich. Yes, they were both interested in going there, but if it was seriously off their list of possible places to live, Lovino might be all right with this idea. He worked carefully to complete the painting he'd started this afternoon – this time of a sick Lovino in bed, with a scowl on his face and a hot water bottle on his head – and made a little list of things to bring back to cheer him up. He hoped Lovino could get over the sickness quickly.

…

"Bastard, you are ridiculously sweet."

"Not really. I probably wouldn't have thought of it if you hadn't done it for me first." Arthur pulled biscotti and cream-filled doughnuts out of a bag. It had been really hard to find doughnuts! "Here, more tissues, more medicine."

"This just proves we're perfect for each other." Lovino ignored the health care items and reached for a doughnut. "I teach you how to take care of me, and you do it." Then he sneezed again.

"Wanker. Bless you. Do you want me to order anything from room service? Gelato, or –?"

"Oh! Gelato would be great on my sore throat. Yes, please."

Arthur did his best to order the room service in Italian. He was getting a little more confident, although he still couldn't understand it when two natives were speaking Italian to each other. But Lovino was patient with him, and that helped.

After the gelato had been ordered, along with soup for them both and some tea for Arthur, he showed Lovino the little painting, making him poke Arthur harshly in the arm while he laughed at it. The blond then explained his thought about switching the itinerary around.

"But I don't want you to have to sit around and make phone calls all day to rearrange things."

"Might as well; I'm not going to be doing much else. Besides, it's only one call. I can go downstairs and talk to them here. Just think about it, and let me know."

Lovino nodded and ate another doughnut. Room service arrived, and Arthur sat on the bed and tenderly fed his sick friend soup and then gelato. "Dammit."

"What? What could you possibly be mad about now?"

"Just wondering how the fuck I ever managed without you, sweetie pie." Lovino pinched his cheek.

Arthur blushed. "Shut it. You're horrible when you're sick."

"Yeah, I know. I like being pampered, but it's tough to feel grateful for it when I'm in misery." He finished the last spoonful of gelato and ruffled Arthur's hair.

"Well…you'll have to help me. I'm not good at pampering, and I don't like being pampered when I'm sick, so…it's not going to come naturally to me. Give me some hints once in a while, yeah?"

"Sure." Lovino looked through the new memory book again. "You don't like being pampered? And I thought I was being so considerate that time you were sick."

"You were. I felt very close to you, that day." They shared a smile. "But when I'm sick I just like to lie around and do what I need to do. Take baths, sleep whenever. Whinge at myself. You know."

"I know." Lovino took his hand. "What the hell. See if you can extend our stay here for two weeks, and cut two weeks off the Zurich trip. That is a good idea, because I like Milan, and you know we're both feeling a little iffy about Zurich."

His friend beamed at him. "Rest up, sick wanker. I'll go check with the concierge now."

"Wash the germs off your hands! And hurry back." Lovino blew him a kiss before breaking into a flurry of coughing. "Go."

Arthur went, and hurried back.

…

_Maybe Arthur should put a hamburger on his head._


	79. A View of Lauterbrunnental

_This is now my longest story (surpassing the Anagram Stories), as well as my story with the most hits (finally surpassing Twelve Meetings). Time for another little celebratory update. Maybe you'll get another one today, too._

…

**A View of Lauterbrunnental, Switzerland.** (Anton Hansch, oil on canvas, 1855)

"Wake up."

"Wanker. Not this again."

"Come on. Did you forget we're in Zurich? Time to go look around!"

Arthur rolled over. "Oh. Right. Yes, give me a minute." He stretched. "Somehow I feel less perturbed than usual about you waking me up early."

Lovino slipped on top of him, smiling. "Mm, because now that I'm healthy, you have so much more incentive to wake up."

"Yes, but now I'm never going to get out of the bed, loverboy." He pushed his hands into Lovino's hair – which still, somehow, looked perfect, even moments after awakening. "Just hold me a minute while I try to wake up."

"All right." Lovino laid his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"Mm. We could stay in bed all day?" He traced the Art Nouveau design lightly with one hand.

Lovino laughed and poked him. "Forget it, snoozy bastard. Let's get up."

"Fine, but then we should take a shower together."

"Sure."

So they got up and showered together before leisurely heading towards the hotel restaurant for a quick continental breakfast.

"Do we have any particular plans today?" Arthur asked, drinking some coffee. "Hey, this coffee is really good! It's almost better than your espresso at home."

"Cheh. Nothing's better than my espresso. I had the grocery store import it especially for me. I used to own the coffee plantation."

"You're joking."

"Why would I joke about something like that? Not joking. That espresso is the best stuff in the world."

"Don't get all uptight! I said this is 'almost' better."

"Bastard. Anyway, no, we have no particular plans. Just thought we could sightsee, wander around. Since it's off the future list, there's no point in learning too much about the area."

"All right. At least it's a little warmer than I'd expected."

"Listen, that reminds me. Will you buy yourself a pair of fucking gloves? It's been driving me mad that you don't have any. I would have bought some for you but I didn't want you getting all – uh – shirty because I was spending money on you."

"Over a pair of _gloves?_" Arthur started laughing. "You're really becoming most considerate."

"Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. Hey, remind me when we get back tonight. I need to log on and do a little work, catch up with emails and all that."

"Yes. I can do with some indoor sketching time." They finished their breakfast and went outside to stroll. "If you see a glove place, let me know."

"Want to wear mine?" Lovino held his gloved hands out.

"I'm not going to take your gloves away from you! What if I lost them? Besides, I'd probably stretch them all out of shape. You have such elegant, slender hands." Arthur took the nearest and began caressing it through the glove; he lowered his voice. "I love to watch them when you're running them over my body…"

When he looked up Lovino was bright red. "You – you –"

"Sorry." But he didn't feel sorry, and he knew he didn't look it, either. He dropped Lovino's hand. "But I really do."

Lovino took that hand and rubbed it over his face. "Dammit. Just – just shut up and let's walk."

…

They were leaving the Landesmuseum after a long day when they suddenly heard a shouted, disbelieving, "Lovino?"

Now what, Arthur wondered, but kept his mouth shut as the two of them turned to find the source of the shout.

"Oh," Lovino said, equally surprised. "I did wonder whether we might run into him here, but it seemed pretty farfetched." He led Arthur across the street to intercept a blond man sporting a white beret. "Vash," he said neutrally, shaking the man's hand.

"It has been a long time," the newcomer replied, his Swiss accent marked. "What brings you to Zurich?"

"Let me introduce you to my – my p-partner," he stammered, turning red; ah, Lovino was so adorable. He was really making an effort, and Arthur was so proud of him. "Arthur Kirkland. Arthur, this is one of my old schoolmates, Vash Zwingli."

The two blonds shook hands politely, but Vash turned back to Lovino almost instantly, eying him with an intrigued expression. "Please, walk with me, if you're not busy. I need to get to the train station, but it's been so long since we've talked…Are you here on business?" he asked. Arthur and Lovino fell into step agreeably as they headed to the station.

"No. We're on an extended vacation. We've been somewhat halfheartedly talking about moving back to Europe, so this is a sort of fact-finding tour for a possible relocation."

"Moving _back_ to Europe? Where are you living now?"

From this, Arthur gathered Vash and Lovino hadn't seen each other in a very long time. Lovino explained; Arthur drifted back to walk behind them, since the sidewalk was crowded. He let his mind wander while the two old classmates spoke. It was somewhat of a shame that Zurich was off their list; he quite liked it, but he knew there were going to be other places equally likeable in the world to consider.

When they reached the train station Vash parted from them, promising to phone Lovino at the hotel. Lovino took Arthur's hand and they walked on.

"Well, that was unexpected. Is he a _friend_ of yours? Or just a classmate?"

"My roommate was his best friend."

"University? Oh, no, you said you roomed with Feli there."

"Right. This was from prep school. Vash isn't the easiest guy to get along with."

"What do you mean? He's a real bastard or something?"

"No, no, he's not a bastard; he's just sort of aloof. Difficult to get a reaction out of him."

"All right. I'm definitely going to be on my best behavior if we talk to him again."

"Didn't you hear? He wants us to come over for dinner on Wednesday night. They don't have plans that night. Is that all right with you?"

"'They'? They who?"

"Vash and Roderich! I couldn't believe it when he told me that."

"What, that they want us to come for dinner? What's so unbelievable about that?"

Lovino stared at him, puzzled. "Weren't you paying attention? Roderich was my roommate in school, Vash's best friend."

"Yes, you told me about him when we talked about your dancing lessons that one night. But I missed out on a lot of your conversation today. I was daydreaming."

"Absent-minded bastard. Anyway, Roderich and Vash want us to join them for dinner. Did you hear _that_ part of the conversation?"

"Yes, git. You just said it. But you said something about you 'didn't believe it'? That's what I missed. What don't you believe?"

"They're living together_._" Lovino looked pensive. "I didn't know they were that close, you know?"

"Well, it's been a long time since you talked to them, right? So a lot might have happened. Look at what's happened to you since then."

"Yes," he mused. "But I also would have thought Vash too uptight to consider something like that."

"Again I must point out that _you_ used to be too uptight to consider something like that."

"You're a know-it-all bastard, Arthur."

"Yes, I know. Anyway, if they're happy, who cares? Maybe he's only, er, not-uptight when he's with your Roderich, but if that makes him happy, that's great."

"Don't call him _my Roderich._ Especially not in front of Vash. Did I tell you he's gun-crazy?"

"G-gun crazy? He carries a gun? Bollocks."

"Usually. Sometimes two." Lovino laughed at the expression on Arthur's face.

"This doesn't bother you, wanker?"

"I don't plan to do anything to anger him, bastard! It would only bother me if I was afraid of getting shot!"

"All right, whatever. So – they want us to join them for dinner. Are we going to do it?"

"Not if you're freaked out about his guns, idiot."

"It's not likely he's going to pull one out at the dinner table, is it?" Arthur drew back in alarm. "_Is _it? If it is, I don't want to risk it."

"Calm down. He wouldn't do that. For one thing, it would make him look bad in front of Roderich. We should be fine."

"Er. Yes, you're right, I suppose. I guess it's fine with me. Find out if we need to dress up."

"Dammit, I hadn't thought of that. I really don't want to. Do you?"

"No, but – just tell them, and they can plan something more informal. I'm sure they'd understand."

"I hope so."

…

When they got back to the hotel room after dinner, Lovino pulled his laptop from its bag and booted it up. Arthur settled in across from him at the little table to make some sketches of things they'd seen for later reference.

"A-Arthur?"

The blond raised his head. "Yes? What?"

But Lovino was staring at his laptop screen with a ridiculous grin on his face and didn't answer.

"Hello?" Arthur said, poking him in the arm with a sketch pencil. "Anybody home?"

"Nh. Hang on." Lovino kept grinning inanely and reading something on the laptop. "This is great! Great news."

"Going to tell me, make me guess, or ignore me?"

"Oh, I'll tell you." Lovino finally stopped staring at the screen and smiled at Arthur with the freaky grin. "I have here an email from Karpusi, remember? The art dealer from Greece who came to the open house?"

Arthur nodded.

"He bought one of your paintings, and the client who purchased it from him is interested in more artwork by this artist. Karpusi wants four more paintings."

Arthur smirked. "You are joking, aren't you. Brutal tosser."

"I'm not joking, sensitive boy. Look." Lovino spun the laptop around so that Arthur could read the email, and it said, in fact, just what his friend had told him.

"Wow."

"As you so eloquently put it."

"Git. What am I going to do? I don't have any paintings available, even at home, and I don't have the means to paint anything while we're here! Not like those." Arthur began to panic.

"Calm down." Lovino reached across the table and took his hand. "Just listen. You don't have to furnish paintings on demand."

"But – but if they want them – I should – I need to –"

"Arthur." Lovino stood up and came to embrace the seated Arthur from behind. "Listen to me, _caro mio_, just listen. Deep breath. Are you calm? Are you listening?"

"Yes." He took the required deep breath and leaned his head back against Lovino.

"You don't want to send them paintings as soon as they ask. Right? You don't want to look desperate. And, too many pieces flooding the market and it'll seem cheap. Remember?"

"But I don't have _any –"_

"Calm? Please?" Lovino rested his chin on Arthur's head and squeezed him a little. "You don't even need to furnish them paintings on demand. Any. We'll just tell him the artist is on vacation, or something. If the client's that interested, it will just whet his appetite when they do become available."

Arthur shook his head. "All this business, marketing, whatever – I just don't get it."

"That's why you used to have trouble, though, right? Because you were just focused on the art part. Now that you have me," and here he squeezed Arthur again, "I can handle the marketing part and you just paint. Paint whatever and whenever your little heart desires. All right? I'll make sure Karpusi gets what he wants, whenever you're ready, and I can probably get you a better price that way."

"Why did you go to the diner that night?" Arthur asked. He knew this sounded like a bizarre non sequitur, but hoped Lovino would be able to make the mental leap.

And he did. "I don't even know. I'd had a bad day, and I wanted some of that apple pie. I used to work right near there, so I went there all the time before that. But that night I drove across town just for the pie, to calm down. That – that was the day Ms. Taylor told me she was resigning."

Arthur sighed happily, reaching up backwards to embrace his friend. "It's like magic, you know?"

"I do know," Lovino said, snuggling closer. "Beautiful magic."

"Yes. It brought me my own personal marketing genius."

"Smartass." Lovino let go and walked back to his chair. "Are you interested in selling some paintings to Karpusi eventually?"

"Sure, eventually. But we'd need to get home, and I'd need to paint them, before we could ship them. Say maybe June? July?"

"All right. I'll hold him off with some general commentary and you and I can talk about it when we get closer to home." He began to type.

Arthur considered this. "I'll have to start thinking about what to paint."

"Well, you've got plenty of time for thinking."

"I've got time for a lot of things, magic boy," Arthur grinned, rising from his chair. "Are you done with those bloody emails yet?"

Lovino laughed. "Done enough. Come take a bath with me?"

"Mm, yes. What a perfect ending to a pretty nice day."

…


	80. Gondoliers' Siesta

**Gondoliers' Siesta.** (John Singer Sargent, watercolor, 1904)

Lovino's old roommate Roderich answered the telephone when he called on Wednesday morning, and they spent a few pleasant, if awkward, moments reacquainting themselves while Arthur ate hotel breakfast and tried not to eavesdrop. It had been about six years since the two old acquaintances had seen each other. Roderich confirmed that it would be a casual dinner. Lovino got the address and they hung up.

"Not a problem. Roderich's cooking."

"Is he – I hope he's a good cook."

"I hope so too, bastard. Not like you."

"I hate you sometimes, git." Arthur punched him with a smirk.

"Hey, you can't get angry with me for telling the truth. So – what should we do today?"

"I need some more watercolors and a new blank book. Maybe two or three. You're a demon. If I'd known you'd be pestering me for paintings all the time, I wouldn't have done that."

"Ridiculous bastard. You would, and you know it."

"Git." Arthur drank his tea. "But…you're right. Come on, finish your breakfast and let's go exploring."

…

"Tell me more about these two," Arthur asked later, as the cab whisked them towards their dinner date.

"Huh. All right, let's see. Vash: gun-crazy, aloof bastard, Swiss, likes to ski, hates lizards."

_"What?"_

"I don't know. It's just some dumb phobia he has. Some other guy at school had a pet lizard and Vash always freaked out around it."

"Well, that's not likely to be very useful information. What else?"

"Very nationalistic. Can't imagine why anyone would want to live outside Switzerland. Nuts about cheese fondue. Also, he likes to save money."

"Don't we all? All right. It sounds like you're scraping the bottom of the barrel here on information. What about your Roderich?"

"Stop that_._ I know you're doing it just to goad me."

"Maybe." Arthur grinned.

"Right, well, Roderich: Very elegant, good-looking, Austrian, insanely passionate about music, but also into history, food, art and shooting."

"Shooting? Bloody hell, are all your friends bloodthirsty this way?"

"Ah, hell, I don't know. I went hunting with Roderich once."

"You went _hunting_. Seriously? You?"

"Well, I say hunting. Basically we rode around all day with guns and pretended to look for things to shoot."

"Did you shoot anything?"

"We, uh, well, we shot, but we never hit anything. That was my first and last time hunting."

"Good. Bloodthirsty git. But what about Roderich? He hunts? Bollocks, I'm not going to be able to talk to either of them! What will I talk about?"

"Calm down, will you? Roderich, at least, is fairly easygoing. Family made a lot of money in gemstones."

Arthur groaned. "What does he do for a living?"

This actually brought a fond little smile to Lovino's face. "I told you he's crazy about music, right? Vash told me he's part of a small classical music ensemble. They play at elite weddings, primarily, but sometimes they're booked for fancy dinners for private companies, or government occasions, and shit like that. Apparently they're very good, and very exclusive, and Roderich is happy to be able to live his dream that way."

"That's really nice." The two spent a few moments in contemplation. "I'm happy to be living my dream, too, now," Arthur then said. He squeezed Lovino's hand.

"What, you mean sleeping with your ex-boss?"

"Wanker!"

…

During the visit, Lovino tried to make sure Arthur felt at ease. He remembered how hard Arthur had worked on that horrible Christmas Eve with Feliciano and the potato bastard, and he wanted to – well, to pay him back, to smooth things over. But it was not really necessary. Roderich was pleasant, almost jovial, and even Vash unbent a bit and laughed at a few jokes. Lovino tried to curb his own surliness as well, but when he had a moment to think about it, realized that he didn't even feel very surly tonight.

Arthur eagerly spoke of his painting. He seemed surprised when both their hosts easily discoursed on various historical painting styles. Roderich favored the Secession style, while Vash argued the merits of Realism. Lovino merely sat back and listened; he still couldn't keep all these movements straight in his own head. Maybe he'd ask Arthur to teach him more about them. Sometimes he still felt like an idiot about art.

After the delicious meal, which had consisted of local Swiss dishes, Roderich played the piano for the guests. Arthur complimented him and pointed out that "Chopsticks" was the only piano piece he knew. Lovino saw, he actually _saw_ Roderich shudder at that. Vash let out a harsh bark of laughter at his friend's distress.

Arthur blushed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound like a musical philistine. It's just that all my artistic endeavors were bent towards painting, rather than music, or writing, or – or anything else."

"I completely understand," Roderich answered somewhat stiffly, which made Vash laugh again. "Lovino, will you play something for us?"

Arthur turned an astonished face to him, and Lovino felt his face burning. He ran his hand over it. "I'm – I'm afraid that playing anything, after you, would be anticlimactic," he mumbled, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Thank you," his Austrian friend said politely. Lovino peeked at Arthur, who was still staring at him, and nervously shifted his gaze to the expansive windows overlooking the town.

"But you should find time to listen to Roderich's ensemble while you're here," the Swiss man then said. "Their music is exquisite."

Roderich turned a little red and modestly replied, "Vash, please. Stop." He turned to the guests and changed the subject. "Why did you choose to visit this area?"

"Cheh. Switzerland is centrally located for most of the shit we want to do. Museums, touring, whatever. We both like it in Washington, but there's so much in Europe that we want to do, that it didn't make a lot of sense to be jetting across the Atlantic all the time. I don't think we'll end up living in Zurich, but it was worth a look."

Vash nodded. "It can get lively at times, especially during the summer months, but it's not outrageously busy all the time like New York or London. You might try Lausanne or Geneva. They're a little closer to Italy, which might please you?"

"Yes," Arthur said. "We do plan to investigate other places, but unfortunately on this trip our itinerary is fairly well settled. We'll have to schedule another trip later in the year for our alternate places, if nothing works out this time."

Talk then turned to the pros and cons of various European locales. Arthur seemed to relax a little more. Lovino was pleased about that, but he knew he'd get an earful in the cab.

…

By the time they were ready to depart, there was a pleasant mellow atmosphere between the four of them. After Vash had called a taxi for them, they all went outside in the crisp air to wait for the driver. Lovino shook hands with both his old friends.

"It's – good to be back in touch," he told them, meaning it, surprised.

"I agree." Roderich gave him an extremely brief hug. "I'm glad to see you so – so relaxed."

Lovino blushed and looked anywhere but at Arthur. "Cheh. We'll be all right."

The taxi arrived, sparing him further conversational embarrassment. "Thank you again for dinner," Arthur said.

"It was our pleasure," Roderich shook his hand with a smile.

They got into the cab and waved at their hosts before it drove away. "Dammit."

"Dammit what? You didn't seem too stressed. Certainly not like you are around Ludwig."

"Cheh. Ludwig is in a league of his own, bastard. No, I'm just tired. I don't feel very stressed at all, surprisingly."

"Well, that's good, then." Arthur took his hand and looked out the window at the passing scenery. "I like them. You were right, Vash is a little uptight, but he's not too bad. What I want to know is why you never told me you played piano! You don't even _have_ a piano. I don't even remember seeing one at your house in Rome."

"There was one in the library! Airheaded bastard. I don't like to play, though. That was another one of those things my parents forced me into, when I was growing up."

"Are you any good?"

This question of Arthur's was so blunt and unlike him that Lovino started laughing. "Yes, I am. Well…I was. Haven't kept up with it. I – I wouldn't really have felt too bad, playing right after Roderich, but I knew you were freaking out about it, so I backed down."

"You can really be a bloody wanker sometimes. I wonder why I love you so much."

Lovino's heart melted, just as it did every time Arthur said those words, even when he was joking as now. "Because I'm the only one who can put up with your fucking insults, _amore mio_."

Arthur snorted and squeezed his hand.

"Thanks for talking about art and shit," Lovino then said. "I still don't know enough to sound knowledgeable about it."

"If you really want to learn, I'll teach you. I can try to make it fun for you. But you never said."

"You make everything fun." Lovino leaned up against his friend's shoulder. "Let's talk about it tomorrow. Wake me up if I'm asleep when we get there."

"Of course I will. I'll take care of you no matter what." Arthur gently stroked his hair.

"I know. All right."

So Lovino relaxed in the taxi and meditated a little.

…

"Hey," Arthur said, shaking him. "We're here."

"Dammit. How long was I asleep? It feels like it was maybe only three minutes?"

"You were asleep for – three minutes," Arthur laughed, checking his watch. "Come on, get out of the cab; there's plenty of time for sleeping now."

Together they headed up to the hotel room, Lovino leaning against Arthur, yawning. "Want to get some coffee?"

Arthur seemed taken aback. "I thought you wanted to sleep?"

"Well…I did, in the cab, but now that I'm going to be alone with you, my thoughts are turning in quite a different direction." Lovino grinned at him and unlocked the door to their room.

The blond didn't answer until they'd locked the door behind him, and his only answer was to cup Lovino's face and press a kiss to his lips.

"Huh. Guess I don't really need any coffee," Lovino laughed after a minute, breaking away and tearing off his clothes. "Come on, sweet thing, let's play."

…

_If you're ever wondering whether I cross-reference my other stories, the answer is probably yes. Here, the lizards, the hunting and the gemstones are all references from "Anagram Stories."_


	81. The Quai St Bernard

**The Quai St Bernard, Near the Gare d'Austerlitz Train Station. **(Henri Cartier-Bresson, photograph, 1932)

"So, I had this idea," Lovino said as they walked along the Left Bank.

"Er – yes?"

"Don't get pissed off. Listen to my idea."

"I told you, I'll always listen. Go."

Lovino explained his plan about the new wardrobe shopping spree.

"Why?" Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"See, I knew you'd get pissed off, bastard."

"I'm just wondering why the hell you want me to do this! You don't think I dress well enough?"

The brunet sighed. "Arthur…please. You're reading much too much into this. I – I have always preferred the service of personal tailors and boutiques; it's something I appreciate. Like flying first class. And I thought you might like to experience it, too. You may hate it, and I'm willing to accept that, but I wanted to offer it to you." He laughed a little. "And I'm tired of looking at the same three suits of yours all the time."

"Well."

Lovino kept his silence while Arthur worked this out in his head.

"All right, wanker."

"That's it?"

"Well, yes! Clearly it'll make you happy if I do it – if only because you'll have new suits to look at." He started laughing. "Ah, whatever you like, Lovino. I'll be happy to do it. Thanks."

Lovino blew him a kiss. "Good. We'll start with one of my favorite places."

"Er – right now? I feel a little – a little –"

"Not right now, dammit. Maybe on Thursday. I wouldn't just spring this on you. You know how I get about unexpected changes to the plan. I'm not likely to force something like that on you."

"Fine. Thanks. I appreciate it." Arthur took his hand and they continued strolling along the Seine, enjoying their first day in Paris.

…

"Messieurs, welcome." The boutique's owner led them through the double glass doors. Tall and dark, the older man had a well-oiled manner. "Monsieur Vargas, it has been a very long time since you've been here."

Lovino nodded and introduced Arthur to M. Sébastien, and then spoke to him about the types of things they wanted to purchase for his friend.

"But of course. Let me call one of my senior assistants for you. Unfortunately I cannot spare the time for you myself, because we have a big fashion show coming up next week. But Francis will see that you are well-served." He pressed a button on the wrap desk telephone and discreetly spoke into it, presumably to ask this Francis to come out.

A dapper blond man with fashionable beard stubble came out of the back of the shop. "Francis, here are Monsieur Vargas and Monsieur Kirkland. They are here to provide Monsieur Kirkland with a wardrobe update. Please take all the time necessary to ensure they are pleased with the selection and service we offer."

Francis, his blue eyes twinkling, nodded to his employer and gestured the two clients towards the racks of clothing.

…

Lovino sat back in a chair in the front of the store, quite satisfied. Arthur had been pleasant and amenable to everything suggested – and he'd looked damned good in most of the stuff he'd tried on, too. Lovino wondered whether a Parisian hairstylist could help Arthur at all, and concluded that this was probably unlikely. He snorted. Arthur was now in the back with Francis, having his measurements taken so that the clothing could be altered to fit him to perfection.

Thinking about all this made Lovino realize his own wardrobe might need a little updating. He didn't want Arthur to look _better_ than he did, dammit! But they could worry about that later. Maybe he'd wait until they were in London for that. Get some new boots. He grinned, thinking about that, trying to envision Arthur in punk clothes. He began to fidget on the chair a bit.

Moments later, Arthur came out of the dressing room disheveled and red-faced, with a little scowl, and crossed to Lovino. Francis, a smile on his face, followed, thanking Lovino and shaking his hand. They were assured that the items would be completed before their departure for Calais two weeks later.

Once out of the store, the brunet turned to his friend. "Are you all right? You look kind of angry."

"Eh." Arthur shrugged. "Nothing, really. I – I guess I'm still not comfortable with all this high-end treatment."

"Get used to it, bastard."

"I'm working on it!" Arthur shoved him playfully. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well, we're here for art, let's go check out some art."

"Sounds all right to me. Come on, sweet thing."

…

_I'd like to thank everyone who's still reading and enjoying the story._


	82. Hip, Hip, Hurrah!

**Hip, Hip, Hurrah!** (Peder Severin Krøyer, oil on canvas, 1888)

"Why don't we get some lunch first?" Arthur suggested. "I appreciate art as much as the next bloke – probably more so – but wandering the Louvre on an empty stomach would make me stroppy. If we have an early lunch I can calm down a little from – from all that high-toned clothing shopping." He grimaced.

Lovino laughed and poked him. "Sure. Let's go."

They began looking for a suitable place to eat, scanning shop fronts, before Lovino put a hand out and stopped Arthur. "Is that – is that _Gilbert_?"

Both of them peered at an albino man peeking into a shop window about thirty feet away. "Looks like him, but – how unlikely is that?"

"Do you see his cross-dresser anywhere?" They scanned the area and found a notable lack of Feliks. "Maybe inside the shop?"

Just then the albino laughed. "Kesesese!"

"Yep, that's him," the two friends chorused.

"Wait here," Arthur said quietly. "I'm going to surprise him."

"Whatever."

Arthur crept up behind Gilbert and then put his arms around him, hands covering Gilbert's eyes. "Kesesese!" Gilbert repeated. "Mathias, is that you?"

"Not Mathias," Arthur whispered, so that his accent wouldn't clue his friend in.

"Edouard?"

"Not Edouard."

"Etienne!"

"What? No, not Etienne."

"Uh – Simone?"

"Bloody hell, no, it is not sodding _Simone!"_ Arthur thundered, which brought Lovino over at a trot.

"Artie? Artie!" Gilbert turned around and spun Arthur in a hug. "And Lovino, too! Wow, what are you guys doing here? This is awesome!"

"Gilbert," Lovino greeted him.

"What are _you_ doing here, wanker? Where's Feliks?"

Gilbert let out a little laugh and ruffled Arthur's hair, then hugged him again. "I was just about to go get lunch. Why don't you two come with me and I'll tell you everything. You can have tea or something."

Arthur looked at Lovino. Lovino looked at Arthur. Finally Lovino shrugged. "Might as well. I know the curiosity will kill you, bastard, and besides, we didn't eat lunch yet."

So Gilbert led them to the nearest café, where they got something to eat. "So…before I start," he said, "what are you two doing in Paris? Business trip?"

Bollocks. They had once again forgotten about the kept man thing. Well, the hell with it. Arthur wasn't going to pussyfoot around with it any longer. "Lovino and I are touring Europe, thinking of moving here."

"You're joking_._"

"Bastard, why would he joke about that when I'm sitting right here? No, he's telling the truth, dammit."

"All right, all right. Damn, I forgot how cranky you can be."

"Git." Arthur sipped tea. "We've been here since before Christmas."

"Oh! No wonder I couldn't reach you. I called you about some parties, but your number was disconnected."

"Er. I moved in with Lovino before we left. Actually, before that Smithsonian night."

Gilbert's eyes widened momentarily but then he moved past this. "I'm really happy to see you again, though. Thought you'd left town without telling me."

Arthur paled at that. He'd been more interested in avoiding Gilbert's goofy Lovino-related commentary than keeping in touch with his friend? Bloody hell, he was almost as bad as sodding Alfred. Contrite, he offered in a low tone, "I'm sorry. I hadn't realized how it might seem to you. Forgive me?"

"Kesesese, yes, of course!" But after this bubbly outburst Gilbert fiddled with the salt shaker, looking earnestly at the blond. "Well, anyway, about Feliks. He broke up with me; he had some kind of life-changing experience." Here, he suddenly seemed intensely embarrassed and dropped the salt shaker, choosing instead to start shredding his napkin. "Uh."

"Uh what?"

The albino kept his eyes on the growing pile of napkin pieces. "Well, he was crossing the street, and a car was about to hit him, and A-ah-uh, s-some guy h-heroically scooped him up and saved him. Feliks thought this was some kind of a – a karmic omen, and now he's trying to get together with that guy." Gilbert still looked kind of uncomfortable.

"What's with the funny expression?" Arthur prodded.

"Uh. The guy who saved him was Alfred."

"You've got to be kidding," Lovino offered dryly. "Now there's a match made in heaven."

Gilbert sighed, and Arthur took pity on him, reaching out to clasp his hand. "I have to point out that if Feliks thinks he could be happy with that wanker, he was never man enough for you."

The albino smiled sweetly at his friend and squeezed his hand. "Exactly my thoughts. Let them have each other."

"So how did you get from Feliks to Paris?"

"I told my boss I was suffering from a broken heart."

Lovino snorted.

"Well, it was sort of true. And I did have a lot of vacation accrued, so I decided to take a whole month in Paris. And it's awesome! I love Paris. I can't believe you two might actually move to Europe. If I could find a job over here I just might move here, too."

"Please don't go to any trouble on our account," Lovino told him in a polite, mature voice that made Arthur laugh.

"Kesesese!" Gilbert didn't seem to be fooled, either.

"How long have you been here?"

"Just two weeks. How long are you here?"

"Two more weeks," Arthur admitted; he could almost hear Lovino's teeth grinding, and laughed.

"That's great, because now we can do all this cool stuff together! Right?"

"Sure," the blond said, appealing to Lovino. "Right?"

Lovino sighed. "Whatever, bastard. Whatever makes you happy." He patted Arthur's hand.

"Aw. But…I do want to take someone else into account."

"Uh-oh."

"Well." Gilbert looked earnestly at Arthur. "Yes." He went on to explain that he had met someone, a new friend. They'd struck up an instant friendship while bonding over the souvenir spoons at Versailles. They weren't dating, the albino assured them, but this guy was definitely one of the reasons he'd been enjoying his trip to Paris so much.

Arthur hoped Gilbert wasn't diving into a rebound relationship. He mentioned this.

"Ah, it's all right, I'm being super careful. But maybe he wouldn't even think of me that way." Gilbert pouted a little.

"Just keep being careful about it, wanker."

"I am. I'm being awesomely careful, I tell you." He finished his drink. "What are you guys doing now? I mean, now that we're done with lunch?"

"We were heading to the Louvre," Arthur admitted. "That's part of the reason we're in Paris. I haven't been there in a long time, not since I was in junior school. Where are you staying?" he then asked Gilbert. They exchanged hotel names and room numbers. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, maybe we could do something."

"I actually haven't been up the Eiffel Tower yet," Gilbert admitted. "I was hoping my friend could take me there, but he doesn't have a day off until Saturday."

"There's a nice restaurant up there," Lovino pointed out.

"Kesesese! Are you saying we could all have dinner together? Lovino, that is probably the nicest thing I have _ever_ heard you say. That would be awesome. Wouldn't it? Yes," Gilbert answered himself. "Let me call you tomorrow. That would be really, really awesome."

…

_Don't worry; you haven't seen the last of Francis!_


	83. L'Oasis ou La Voute Pneumatique

**L'Oasis ou La Voute Pneumatique. **(André Edouard Marty, lithograph, 1921)

Saturday dawned bright; Lovino awoke first and opened the curtains before jumping on the bed to tickle Arthur awake.

"Ah, stop, stop," the blond begged, still half asleep, hair sticking up all over. He grabbed Lovino and rolled over on top of him. "Mm, _bon jour_, you brutal git."

"Good morning to you too, fake Frenchie." He ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. "Don't forget we're meeting your albino bastard and his new boyfriend tonight."

Arthur rolled off Lovino with a groan. "Don't call him _boyfriend._ You know Gilbert said they were just friends."

"Yeah, I know. I just can't help feeling Gilbert will be dating him sooner rather than later. Come on, get up. Let's go do something fun."

"Sure. I need a shower, though."

"Go for it. I'll check emails and shower when you're done."

Arthur blew him a kiss and headed into the bathroom.

…

That night, instead of heading to the Eiffel Tower (they'd all decided to save that for a group outing on Sunday), Lovino and Arthur went to a little bar that Gilbert liked, to meet him and his new friend for a low-key evening first. This had been Arthur's suggestion, knowing how uptight Lovino was around new people, and the brunet was very grateful for that.

Gilbert introduced them to Mathias, a very tall blond with spiky hair and blue eyes. He seemed affable enough, and bought the first round of drinks.

"Do you live in Paris?" Arthur then asked him, once they'd all settled in and begun drinking.

"I do now. I was recently transferred here from Copenhagen. I've only been here about two months, though."

"What sort of work do you do?"

"I'm a representative for Kraft Foods, for the Stimorol chewing gum division based in Denmark. I used to be an orthodontist, but I got fed up having to lecture people about flossing all the time. Especially my Japanese patients. A lot of them were a little weird about oral hygiene."

"Bet you have good teeth," Arthur laughed, and Mathias bared them to show that he did, in fact, have excellent white teeth. "Oh, we're out of drinks," Arthur then noticed. "I'll go." He headed to the bar.

Gilbert bared his own teeth absently, doing arm curls with the napkin dispenser. "Good teeth are important, though."

Lovino started to ask something, but was interrupted by a commotion at the bar. "What's going on?" he wondered, looking over towards the bar. Arthur was loudly arguing with another bar patron. "_What_?" He sat up straight as he realized it was the assistant from the boutique, Francis.

He bit his lip when he saw Francis reach around and squeeze Arthur's ass with a sly grin. Still scowling, Arthur backed away until he was against the wall, but Francis moved towards him again, this time brazenly sliding his hand up and down the front of Arthur's pants. "_Chigi_!" Lovino jumped out of his seat.

"What the hell?" he heard Mathias ask, but ignored it.

Lovino strode across the small floor and grabbed Francis by the arm. "Hands off, son of a bitch," he said with a feral grin, just before socking Francis in the aristocratic nose.

"What?" Arthur yelled, but Francis simply held up his arms to cover his face, instead of fighting back, so Lovino hit him again.

"_Aidez-moi_!" Francis called out pleadingly to someone behind him. This guy, instead of helping Francis, leaped on Arthur and began pummeling him; the blond immediately defended himself, snarling audibly. A lot of other patrons jumped into action, too; it seemed like everyone in the bar had been waiting for an excuse to fight.

Suddenly a chair flew across the bar and splintered the mirror behind the barman's head; broken bottles now spilled liquor everywhere. Lovino looked up to see Mathias laughing like a maniac, hitting everyone he could reach, and Gilbert trying to do the same. The hell with it. He had to focus on this grabby French pansy. Lovino headbutted him and then sat on him, repeatedly bashing his pretty French face. Francis' weak wails of "_non, Monsieur, s'il vous plait_!" went unheeded as the noise level escalated.

"Why are _we_ fighting?" Gilbert yelled to Mathias.

"I don't care! I just like to fight!"

"Kesesese!" Lovino heard above the din.

Eventually a gunshot stopped everyone. The barman stood defiantly amidst the wreckage, holding a pistol aimed at the ceiling, flakes of plaster drifting down like snow onto his head, the bar, the floor.

Lovino recovered his dignity and got off the quaking Francis, who stayed on the floor. The brunet checked the room for Arthur; he was still up against the wall, breathing heavily, but not bleeding. Gilbert and Mathias were both unhurt, grinning proudly in the middle of the room. Most of the other patrons were either fleeing or groaning in pain on the floor.

"_Maudits anglais,_" the barman muttered, which struck Lovino as very funny. He began laughing and walked over to the barman to speak to him in a low tone. Eventually some money changed hands. Lovino then hurriedly beckoned his friends out of the wrecked bar.

"What the hell?" Mathias asked, flexing his strong hands. "I enjoy a good bar fight as much as the next guy, but what actually happened in there?" They wandered down the street together.

"Maybe Arthur should tell us," Lovino snapped, wiping a bit of blood from the side of his mouth.

Arthur sighed. "Don't be a git. I didn't realize he'd be that much of a problem."

"Kesesese! What? What happened?"

The blond explained how, during the clothes fittings, Francis had made several indecent proposals and had also been quite a bit less than professional when taking Arthur's actual measurements.

Lovino interrupted. "That's why you were so mad that day? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"Eh. Thought I could deal with it. I don't want to come running to you like a bloody baby every time something stupid happens. I really didn't think I'd see him again, and I knew you'd get pissed off. And I was kind of afraid you'd get him fired or something."

"Bastard, he _should_ be fired! I mean, what he does on his own time, in bars or whatever, that's his business, but if he's groping you while you're trying to be fitted, that's completely unprofessional, dammit." Lovino started mentally composing an irate phone call to the boutique owner.

"So some guy groped you. So what?" Mathias asked. "Guys grope me all the time. I don't mind."

Gilbert's eyes lit up, but he stuck with the topic at hand. "He groped you in the bar, didn't he? And Lovino awesomely leapt to your defense!" He threw an arm around the brunet, who was still distracted, planning the conversation with M. Sébastien. "Wow. I really wouldn't have suspected you were so brave. Arthur's so lucky to have a boyfriend like you."

"Nh," was the only response, as Lovino shrugged the albino's arm off him. But then he focused. "Yeah. He was grabbing Arthur's – Arthur's – well, ahem, well, Arthur wasn't doing anything about it except yelling at the bastard. I – I don't mind fighting, so it seemed like a good idea to work it out that way. Sorry you guys got dragged into it."

"I don't mind a bit!" Gilbert chortled. "I haven't been in a good bar fight in forever; everybody at home is so prissy about stuff like that. Though I have to admit the best moment was when Mathias threw the chair up against the bar mirror."

"Uh," the Dane then put in. "Why did the barman just let us walk away? I mean, everybody saw Lovino throw the first punch. How come we're not arrested?"

"You greased his palm, didn't you, git?"

Lovino was affronted. "No! Not a bribe. I promised I'd cover the damages. He's going to call us at the hotel when the insurance claim is ready."

"Bloody frogs."

"Kesesese!"

"Eh. You gits mind if we cut the evening short? I'm not in much of a socializing mood, now." Arthur looked at Lovino critically. "You're not bleeding, but you don't look so good."

Lovino punched him in the arm. "Bastard. Yeah, let's skip it and get back to the hotel."

"All right with you, Gilbert?"

Gilbert blew him a kiss. "Awesomely all right, Arthur, you know that. So we'll see you tomorrow at the Eiffel Tower?"

"Yeah. Nice to meet you, Mathias," Arthur offered, and then started laughing. "Hell of a way to break the ice."

"Take care! See you tomorrow." Mathias slung his arm around Gilbert's shoulders and led him off in the other direction.

"Come on, bastard. Let's get out of here."

…

_Did you guess right? I'm sure if any of you are SB readers, you did._

_For people particularly pro-PruPol (wow, that's hard to write and say): sorry! I just love DenPru, and I've had this idea in mind for a long time. I don't even know why I went with Poland in the first place, except maybe because it was too hard to wrap my mind around the idea of Denmark as a cross-dressing stripper. _

_I will write the "Francis and Arthur in the fitting room" scene for Life Sketches, when I get to that point._


	84. Man in Shower in Beverly Hills

**Man in Shower in Beverly Hills.** (David Hockney, acrylic on canvas, 1964)

Arthur sighed and took Lovino's hand as they walked away from their friends.

"Dammit. Why the hell didn't you stop that bastard? All you did was stand there looking pissed off!"

"I thought I could just get away from him! I…er…didn't want to make a scene."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Lovino let go of his hand and put his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Ah, forget it, bastard. It's not a big deal."

"It's kind of funny," Arthur then pointed out. "We're leaving this trail of disappointed, bruised suitors all over the world."

"Suitors, my ass. They're just a bunch of horny pigs. Maybe they should all get together."

"What, like some kind of mental health clinic?" Arthur started laughing again. "Send them all to a deserted island together; they can chase and grope each other all day."

"I wish it would stop, though, dammit."

"How much longer can it possibly go on? You think men are going to be throwing themselves at us for the rest of our lives?"

"I don't see why not. We're both perfectly desirable." Lovino offered this in a snooty tone of voice, but then joined his friend in his laughter.

"As long as we've got each other, sweet thing, I don't care what happens." Arthur stopped him for a kiss.

"You know we do. Come on. I want to take a hot shower. That dumb bastard actually managed to hit me a few times."

"Mm. Let's shower together?"

"Yes, all right. Let's move."

…

At the hotel, they stopped at the concierge to request a bottle of champagne and some orange juice from room service; by now it was pretty late in the evening for mimosas, but Arthur had had a craving.

When it was delivered, Arthur placed the tray on the nightstand for later.

"Hell of a day," Lovino offered, stripping.

"Will you let me take care of you?" Arthur asked, almost shyly, as he undressed. "Let me act like your body servant in the shower; clean you up and pamper you. You were a pretty impressive fighter, too." Now naked, he began checking Lovino's body for damages, but found none.

His friend grinned. "Sure. You know I like being pampered."

In the bathroom, he turned on the water and extended his hand to Arthur, who took it with a secretive smile and stepped into the shower.


	85. Eiffel Tower

**Eiffel Tower.** (Gustave Eiffel, wrought iron sculpture, 1889)

"Kesesese! It is such a beautiful day, and I can't stand it, everything is beautiful, the world is beautiful, you guys are all awesome, and I'm feeling like a million bucks. Euros," Gilbert corrected himself, spinning around with his arms extended. "Isn't it a great day? How are you guys feeling?" he asked Arthur and Lovino solicitously. "No injuries?"

"We're fine, bastard," Lovino told him.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, waiting for some further snarky outburst from his friend, but Lovino seemed perfectly friendly today. Eh, maybe beating up Francis the pervert had mellowed him a little. He wondered how long this might last. "Yeah, I'm all right, too. Did you gits do anything fun last night?"

"Nah. Found another bar, had another fight."

"You're _joking._"

"He's joking," Mathias confirmed. "All we did was drink and leave."

"Kesesese. Nobody appreciates my awesome jokes."

"Maybe if they were funny, somebody would." Lovino poked him in the arm.

Arthur's eyes widened. This was really unlike him. Maybe Lovino and Gilbert would actually be friends someday? That would be great. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the albino until they'd met up the other day.

"I always loved the Eiffel Tower, even as a kid," Mathias then said, looking at it. "Good architecture always impresses me."

"I agree," Lovino told him. "This is part of the reason Arthur and I are finding it hard to settle on a place to live. I want to have a beautiful home, an architecturally-interesting home, but…it's tough. A lot of places in America, for example, have very boring homes for sale."

"But you don't even know where you're going to end up," Gilbert pointed out. "You really need to figure that out first."

"Yes, we know, wanker. Eh, whatever. When we find the right place, we'll know it."

"Come on! Let's go up the awesome tower!"

So, up they went.

…

Later, they relaxed at a little café in the city. Gilbert and Mathias drank beer, Lovino wine, and Arthur stuck with sparkling water.

"Not drinking today, Artie?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Eh. Just don't feel like it. I drank too much last night." The memory of those late-night mimosas – and the delicious shower – flooded him, and he felt his face turn red. He scowled and hoped someone would change the subject.

But no. "What? We only had one drink in the bar." Gilbert looked confused.

"Drank too much in the hotel, he means." Lovino pushed his glass of wine aside, also blushing. He ran his hand over his face.

"Aha! I won't say another word," the astute Gilbert cackled. "What should we do next?"

Mathias had been leafing through a tiny guidebook he'd purchased on the Tower. "We could go to Disneyland Paris one day, if you guys like amusement parks."

There was a sudden silence at the table. When the Dane looked up, Gilbert was gleefully staring at Arthur; Arthur was scowling at Lovino, and Lovino had his eyes raised nonchalantly to the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs.

"What? What the hell did I say?" Mathias wondered aloud.

"Kesesese! Do they have skeeball there? Maybe you could beat Lovino?" he suggested to Arthur.

"Can't. We went to Kings Dominion one day and the git beat me by a mile. And he'd never played before!" The blond slammed his fist onto the table.

"I can't help it if I pick things up quickly, bastard. Maybe you could beat Mathias."

Everyone looked at Mathias. "I – uh – well, I'm kind of good at skeeball," he admitted, and Arthur put his head into his hands and groaned.

"Forget it. No bloody Disneyland."

"Party pooper."

Mathias waved the guidebook. "Casino?"

"Absolutely not," Lovino said firmly. Arthur agreed. He didn't want Lovino spending to excess on normal things like clothes and airfares, so a casino was doubly out of the picture.

"I don't do so well at casinos," Gilbert agreed sadly.

"Me neither. But it was in the guidebook, so I thought it might be worth asking about. How about a little cruise down the Seine? Oh, no. These are eight-day things."

"Yeah," Gilbert sighed dejectedly. "I've got to go home in eight days."

"Cheer up. Are you still thinking about moving here?"

At these innocuous words of Arthur's, Gilbert looked almost fearful, but before he could speak Mathias jumped into the conversation. "You're thinking of _moving here_? To Paris? Damn! That would be so – so awesome!" He wrapped an arm around Gilbert's shoulders and hugged him briefly; the albino's look of fear changed to one of calculation. He beamed as Mathias hurriedly dropped his arm.

"Yes, it would be awesome indeed, my new friend. I – I wasn't going to say anything, because I wasn't sure I could deal with it, being all alone in a foreign city, though."

"You wouldn't be alone! I'd be here for you. You should do it." Then Mathias sighed, his eyes on the café's front windows. "I've been here two months, and you're the only person I've met that I want to spend more time with."

Arthur and Lovino desperately pretended to be interested in their drinks. There was a little silence. Arthur was afraid to raise his gaze, but eventually he did, to see that Gilbert and Mathias were regarding each other soulfully.

Apparently Lovino had seen this too; he cleared his throat, and the others jumped. "Bastards, I'm really tired. Let's call it a day."

"Righto," Arthur agreed, with perhaps too much enthusiasm. He threw a couple Euro coins on the table for the drinks. "Hey, wanker, give us a call before you go back home, all right?"

Gilbert smiled sweetly and winked at him. "I awesomely will, my intelligent friends. Have a good evening."

When they got outside, Arthur peeked back in, and Mathias had his arm around Gilbert again. "Well, looks like you were right."

Lovino laughed and hugged him. "I'm always right. Come on; let's go have a little fun by ourselves."

…

_Soon Gilbert will be sitting on his lap! Er – well, maybe not._


	86. Not to be Reproduced

**Not to be Reproduced. ** (René Magritte, oil on canvas, 1937)

Later in the week, while they were breakfasting, a blushing member of the desk staff came into the breakfast room. "_Monsieur_ Vargas, there is a gentleman here to see you." She fidgeted a bit, straightening her blouse, smiling nervously.

Lovino and Arthur looked at each other, confused. "Gilbert?" Arthur suggested. "Is it an – an albino gentleman?"

"_Non, non_, he is from –" Here, the woman named the menswear boutique. "He is carrying several packages."

Since they were near the end of their meal, Lovino requested that she lead the newcomer in.

When she left the room, Arthur turned to him in surprise. "They can't possibly have finished altering all that clothing already. It's been less than a week, and they have that big fashion show coming up!"

"We'll see," was Lovino's equable response. He knew what these boutiques were capable of. And he had phoned M. Sébastien to discuss Francis' behavior, without Arthur's knowledge. He wondered whether there would be a gesture of goodwill from the shop owner, or what might have happened to Francis. Surely Sébastien wouldn't keep him on staff, with behavior like that?

Francis himself, without bruises, walked into the breakfast room holding several shopping bags and garment bags with the boutique's logo on them. He approached the table somewhat hesitantly.

"_Monsieur_ Vargas," he began, setting the bags on the floor and stepping back slightly. "_Monsieur_ Kirkland."

Aha. He _must_ have been bruised. The pansy was wearing makeup! "Yes?" Lovino was not about to help him out in any way. Let him suffer. When he thought of that bastard trying to get his hands on Arthur – he punched the table; both the others flinched.

"Ah – ah – we have finished the alterations to _Monsieur_ Kirkland's wardrobe; I am simply here to deliver it. Please be assured there will be no charge for the garments."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "No charge? And why is that? It's exceedingly generous." Of course he suspected why, but he wanted to hear what the bastard would say. He could tell Arthur's ears had perked up, but the blond didn't look up from his teacup.

"_Monsieur_, please. I – two of the men in the bar the other night are also clients of the boutique, that I – that I – When M. Sébastien learned of the bar fight, and what – what had started it, he got the truth out of them, and me. I've lost my job, and M. Sébastien offers the garments as an apology and gesture of goodwill towards M. Kirkland. This is my last task as an employee." Dismissively, the man now gestured towards the bags. "Do you wish to check these for fit?"

"Not now." Lovino waved his hand airily. "We'll check them later and contact Sébastien if there are any problems."

_"Bien." _Francis handed him a receipt; he signed it. The Frenchman placed it in his pocket and left without attempting to shake hands, without speaking further.

Lovino stared after him for a moment. "Wait here," he told Arthur, and got up to follow Francis out the door.

When he came back in, he was laughing.

"What are you up to, git?"

"Ha. Remember your idea of sending all the horny bastards to a deserted island together? I told him to go to Florence and visit that fucking Antonio's café. Maybe they can keep each other busy."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "You – you're _serious_?"

Lovino kept laughing. "Oh, bastard, come on, how likely is it he'd actually go? I just wanted to tell him that so I could see your reaction when I told you. Come on, finish eating and we'll go have a fashion show upstairs." He raised his eyebrows.

"Sure. We have all day to play." Arthur grinned and wolfed down the rest of his breakfast.

…

_Well, that _was_ my plan for Francis and Antonio. _


	87. Venus de Milo

**Venus de Milo.** (Alexandros of Antioch, marble statue, ca. 100BC)

"Hey, Lovino."

"Hey, what, albino bastard?"

Arthur snorted at that. His earlier hopes had seemed to come true: Lovino was now much more calm and friendly with Gilbert, albeit in a sort of insulting way, which the albino didn't seem to mind at all. This made him wonder how much of Lovino's earlier antagonism had been Feliks-related. Really, when you thought about it, a bloke cross-dressing as a girl, but dating another bloke, it was all kind of bizarre. He could completely understand, if that's what had freaked Lovino out, before. Maybe he'd ask him about this later, when they were alone. It was a distinct enough change that he really wanted to understand why it had happened.

They had all gone to the airport to bid Gilbert farewell. He was still waffling about possibly moving to Paris, but Mathias had apparently done a lot to convince him to do it. Gilbert and Arthur had gone out together one evening to talk, much like their talks at home, and Arthur had done his level best to be supportive, as well as the voice of reason, on that topic. Gilbert had agreed; after all, he'd said, you don't move halfway around the world just because you met a cute guy.

Arthur had nodded, feeling like a right arse about Alfred, but had then realized that if it hadn't been for his idiocy there, he'd never have met Lovino – or even Gilbert. Surprised by this revelation, he'd been quite upbeat for the rest of the evening, and when he'd gotten back to the hotel, had been extra-loving and attentive to Lovino.

That had been a really sweet night, even though Lovino had gotten very suspicious a few times. Hah.

Anyway, here they were at the airport, and Gilbert had to get going. He had the numbers for their Calais and London hotels, just in case he wanted to touch base, but in any case Arthur had promised to phone him when they got back to Washington at the end of March.

Here he realized Lovino and Gilbert were done talking, and the other three were all staring at him. "What? What? Can't a man daydream in peace?" But he did know Gilbert had to get moving. Arthur embraced him, whispering, "Take care of yourself, git," and Gilbert patted him fondly on the arse and laughed into his ear.

"I awesomely will, Arthur! Have a good trip!" He hugged Mathias one more time and disappeared through the security gates, waving, the faint sounds of "Kesesese" floating back to their ears.

"Well, that's that," Mathias said. "Want to go out for some lunch? Or – or maybe you two have plans?"

"We don't have plans, bastard. Come on. Let's all go eat."

…

Mathias seemed down, but then, if it was true that he hadn't found any good friends in Paris yet, that made sense. Both Arthur and Lovino did their best to make the meal cheerful.

"Yeah, but…you guys have each other. I just feel so – so _adrift_ here. No anchor." He looked pleadingly at Arthur. "You and Gilbert are good friends, right?"

Arthur nodded.

"So, you probably know. If he'd be interested in a man or not. I see that he's flexible about you two, but I sure wish I knew if he might consider dating me."

Mathias dropped his gaze to his lunch plate, so Arthur dared to dart a look at Lovino. His friend's eyebrows were raised, and he shrugged at Arthur, as if to say, "You handle this."

Arthur thought about how to discuss this without being a blabbermouth. "It's hard to say. I know he was very happy to have met you, Mathias. Did you exchange emails?"

Mathias nodded, drinking some beer.

"I think that if you keep your emails light and casual, it would be best." Arthur really didn't know why he was helping this guy out – he barely knew him – but he knew Gilbert quite well, and he thought that the two of them might actually be a really good couple. Equals, friends, whereas Feliks had always been somewhat - well, girly and dependent. Mathias would challenge him. "You know. Tell him about stuff you're doing, or whatever, but…"

"Yeah, I understand. It's tough. I like him a lot. Even if he didn't want to date me, he'd be a hell of a lot of fun to hang out with."

"Gilbert is never boring," Lovino admitted, which made Arthur laugh.

"I _know_!" Mathias sighed again. "Ah, forget it. What are you doing after lunch?"

"Louvre. I want to paint." Arthur felt bloody deprived; with all this shopping and socializing, he hadn't had time to paint _anything_ in Paris yet, and they were leaving in three days.

"You paint?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as Lovino launched into a panegyric of his artistic skills. Now he understood how Roderich had felt when Vash had praised his music so highly. "Wanker. I'm not _that_ good."

"Yes, you are, idiot."

Mathias finished his beer and laughed. "You two are pretty well suited to each other, you know?"

"Yeah, we know, bastard." Lovino grinned back at him. "Want to come with us? You and I can wander around while Rembrandt here indulges himself."

"Sure! That would be fun; I've only been to the Louvre twice, but alone, and it's so big and daunting."

"Take him to the sculpture gallery, if that's something you gits can both stand to do. I love looking at sculpture; it always baffles me how someone can look at a block of marble and get something so graceful out of it."

"Sounds good to me." Lovino paid the bill and they left the restaurant.

…

"Did you have a good day?" Arthur snuggled up to Lovino in bed that night.

"Yeah, bastard, it wasn't bad. That guy's pretty fun to hang out with. Part of it may be that he doesn't know anything about me, but…whatever. It _was_ fun."

"Er…something occurred to me today. I feel like an arse, but then, you didn't remember it either, so…you're an arse too."

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Arthur hung his head, feeling somewhat ashamed. "We – you – our – our first anniversary, you know, as a couple, was a few weeks ago, and I forgot, and you –" Here he sat up with a scowl. "You remembered it, didn't you, but you didn't want to talk about because it was too bloody sappy, I bet."

Lovino looked shocked, though. "No! I – I –"

His panicked expression was so comical that Arthur started laughing at him. "You really did forget, didn't you?"

"Yes, bastard. I forgot. Dammit, I'm sorry. Where were we that day?" He covered his face with his hand, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I think it was the night we had dinner with Vash and Roderich."

"Dammit."

"Tell me about it. A golden opportunity for a sappy romantic celebration completely passed us by."

"Wh-what made you think of this, anyway?"

"Well, tomorrow is Valentine's Day! Bloody hell."

This time Lovino laughed. "Well, let's have a two-for-one, then. All right? We'll go up and have dinner on the Eiffel Tower, and make it the most romantic evening we can. Maybe you can wear one of your new suits."

"I admit it wouldn't be too romantic if you were complaining about my clothes. Yes, I'll call in the morning and make reservations." He snuggled up to the brunet again. "Thanks."

"Sweet thing. You know I'm amenable."

"Yeah. Most of the time." Arthur poked him. "So tell me, why have you gotten so chummy with Gilbert all of a sudden? You used to be really tense around him."

"I used to be really tense around everybody." Lovino tilted his head and kissed Arthur sweetly on the mouth. "But you changed all that."

"Yeah, it's amazing how regular doses of sex can calm a guy down."

Lovino punched him, laughing. "Fucking bastard."

Arthur rolled over and pinned him to the bed. "Let's give you your daily dose, delicious boy."

…

_No real reason for using the Venus here, except that she was on the home page of Wikipedia when I went to look for a painting. Then I read she's in the Louvre, so it seemed like a good omen._

_Just in case you did not know about it: A few weeks ago I started a companion piece to this story, called "Life Sketches," which follows the other characters of "Love and Art" through their lives. It starts with Alfred meeting Arthur during that "summer of love" in London. So you might like to read that for a little more background. (Thanks to "Nemo" for the cross-marketing suggestion.)_

_And yes, it's completely my fault that I forgot their anniversary, and remembered about Valentine's Day right before updating this chapter. Dammit._


	88. Cognac Jacquet

**Cognac Jacquet.** (Camille Bouchet, advertisement, ca. 1930)

"Well, you can't say Paris isn't romantic," Lovino laughed, as they changed out of their suits in the hotel room. "That was a very nice dinner. Thanks for remembering it."

"Happy anniversary; happy Valentine's Day." Arthur blew him a kiss and they settled in cozily on the big bed. "You know what would be interesting? Trying to fool around on the Eiffel Tower."

"_Chigi!_ Are you nuts? That place is loaded with people _all the time_. There's no way."

"Well, I didn't mean, you know, er. I meant with hands, not – not –"

"Yeah, I know what you meant, but it's still insane. Forget it."

"Do you think you'd ever be willing to try it outside somewhere? Maybe somewhere secluded?" Arthur had such a pleading expression on his face that Lovino had to laugh.

"Sure. Let's find ourselves a home with a lot of land. We can set up a little private zone in the back yard."

"Deal." Arthur blew him another kiss.

"I've been thinking about something," Lovino then said quietly. "Something I would like to ask you about. Tonight seems like a good time to ask." He rolled onto his side and put an arm around his friend.

"You can ask anything, you know that."

"But – but you might not want to tell me."

"Well, then I won't! Is it that big of a deal?"

"Probably not. Maybe." Lovino worried his lower lip in his teeth, thinking. Maybe he shouldn't ask. But –

"Ask."

"I wondered if you might tell me a little about your childhood. I – I often meditate on the things that happened to me in my life to get me to this point, things that affected the way I grew up, and lately I've been thinking that way about you, too. And I realized I really don't know much about you from before you came to America. Will you tell me?" He looked at Arthur with a little encouraging smile.

The blond seemed abashed. "Wh-what did you want me to tell you?"

Lovino shrugged. "Whatever you think is important. Tell me about your parents; how you lost them, or where you grew up, what you studied in school. Anything, really. I – I like listening to your elegant voice, and I want to know more about what made you _you_."

Arthur hugged him. "Of course I'll tell you. Er – if you think of any specific questions, just make sure you ask. It might help me a little. And – can we turn the lights off? It might be easier to talk about it if I can't see you staring at me."

"Okay, bastard." Lovino smiled and switched off the bedside light. "Is that all right?"

"Yes." They snuggled up closer.

"Tell me…about where you grew up. What city? London? What was it like?"

He slipped into a little happy daze as Arthur spoke of his average childhood in a sleepy village near York, drawing and looking for artistic inspiration. There really hadn't been too much of note until he'd reached age fifteen and his businessman father had died of a cerebral hemorrhage. "It was so frightening. He was only forty-three!"

Lovino didn't say anything. He stroked the hair away from his friend's brow and listened.

"My mother – she didn't take it well. Oh, she held on until I was about nineteen, but she was never the same, living off their savings account, moping around all the time. She never really found anything to lift her spirits after that. She – she just died one night, in her sleep. The doctors – the doctors suspected foul play, but they couldn't find any indication of it."

"You mean, like suicide?" Lovino held Arthur a little more tightly, at that.

The blond's voice was soft. "Yes. But I always knew it was just from a broken heart."

Lovino wondered how someone could possibly choose death over a living loved one. His heart ached as he thought about his own mother, and her life choices. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Arthur about that tonight, and hoped his friend wouldn't ask. He'd tell him someday, but –

"When I finished school I had a specialization in art, but I just floated around, doing odd jobs, painting and trying to sell my paintings. Every now and then I'd make a sale and feel like things were going to change for me: I'd have these visions of selling a bunch of paintings, moving into a nicer place, whatever…but it never happened. Eventually I got tired of scraping by in York and moved to London. There were more job opportunities there, but also…more people fighting for them. Basically I just kept doing the same old shite, waiting tables, delivery boy, whatever, trying to sell paintings and failing miserably. Everybody said they liked them, but nobody wanted to pay for them."

"Cheap-ass idiots. What did you do with your old paintings when you moved to America? Are those the ones you showed me that night?"

"Yes, they were the only ones I had left. It was a little costly to ship them all over, but I figured I'd need them someday."

"And you did."

Arthur didn't speak for a little while, but Lovino could hear his deep, comfortable breathing. He rubbed a finger on the blond's lips and felt a kiss, which made him smile. "Dated a couple of gits, met Alfred, moved to Washington, the rest is history," Arthur concluded in a more upbeat tone.

"Not history," Lovino pointed out. "It's still going on."

"Yes. We're making a new history together."

"I hadn't thought of it like that. That's a nice way to put it. Your little memory books can be 'The Illustrated History of Arthur and Lovino.'"

"Lovino, Lovino, Lovino," Arthur said in a singsong tone. "Is Feli the only person who calls you Lovi?"

"Yeah, I hate it; it sounds so – I don't know, like a lady's lapdog or something, but I let him do it anyway. _Lovi._" He snorted. "Girls always used to think I was a pushover, with a name like that. I guess because it has 'love' in it, and men aren't supposed to be loving, but strong."

"What a load of rubbish. People should be how they want to be."

"I can't help but agree with you there, bastard. Is the albino the only one who calls you 'Artie'? Oh, no, that moron used to call you that, too, didn't he?"

"Yes. I guess it's some stupid American thing, making everything into a nickname. They used to call each other 'Gilbo' and 'Alfie,' too, once in a while." The ridicule was evident in Arthur's voice, here in the dark, and it made Lovino chuckle a little.

"But you have 'art' in your name, which is appropriate for you. I never thought of that. So you have art, and I have love."

"'The Illustrated History of Art and Love'? I like it. That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

"Every step of the way, my artistic blond bastard. Give me a kiss."

"I'll give you several kisses, if you want them, git. There's a two-for-one special tonight, remember?"

"Sure, what the hell. Had nothing better to do."

Arthur snorted and kissed him, and Lovino realized that yes, indeed, that was exactly what it was all about.

…

_Now I feel like designing a book cover._

_Americans do go overboard on nicknames; I'm just as guilty of that as the next guy. _


	89. The Port of Calais

**The Port of Calais.** (Edouard Manet, oil on canvas, 1871)

"Have you ever been to Calais before?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, once. My stepfather brought me here; it was summer break, and he had a long business meeting, a whole week, I think. I don't remember much about it; he spent the days in the meetings, and I spent them slouching around the town drinking and being pissed off."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Ah, shut up, let's go walk around the waterfront, if we can. I know it's pretty busy around here; we don't have that, at home, and I like it."

"Right; you said big waterfront makes you happy."

"Mostly, yeah, but I'm betting this port is busy enough that I wouldn't get the peaceful water feeling from it; I just think it would be interesting to see all the shipping activity and whatever. Let's just go."

Arthur saluted. "Coming as requested, captain."

Lovino looked at him, baffled. "What?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to put more of a nautical theme into our discussions. If you want me to stop, I will."

"Whatever you want, bastard. Just make yourself happy."

"Aye, aye, sir." Arthur put his arm around Lovino's shoulders and they wandered down to the waterfront, laughing together.

…

"All these boats are giving me a really good idea. Have you ever been on a cruise?"

"You mean like a cruise ship type of cruise? Of course not, wanker. Anyway, these are ships, not boats."

"Smartass. Let me finish. If you wanted, instead of flying home, we could take a transatlantic cruise from – from wherever the fuck it is in England, Southampton? – to New York and go home from there. I wouldn't mind doing that. It's a little more refined than flying, although it does take longer. Then we get the nice peaceful water thing, sort of a nice slow way to end the trip."

"Sounds good to me. I like to try new things. Don't know how to make the arrangements, though. I'll look into it once we get to London?"

"Sure. You, uh, you don't get seasick, do you, bastard?"

"Nope, all clear on the seasick front, Cap."

"All right, idiot, that was cute when you started, but it's pretty fucking annoying now. Knock it off. You sound like some kind of pirate." Lovino punched him.

"You're always trying to spoil my fun…matey."

"Yeah, that's me, the world's biggest spoilsport. Shut up and walk." But Lovino pinched his cheek with a little grin to soften the blow, though that was a little creepy, too.

…

Lovino had been spending a lot of time on the computer in the evenings lately. Arthur wondered why, but – as usual – he wasn't going to be intrusive about it. Well, maybe the business things, investments or whatever, were beginning to pile up. He hoped it wasn't a problem. But with Lovino's constant explosions of "Dammit," and "What day –?" and simply "Fuck it," slamming his hand on the table, Arthur had a feeling his friend would break down and say something soon.

For now, the blond, dressed only in striped silk pajama bottoms, kept reading.

Arthur loved his silk pajamas. This was a luxury he'd never thought much about when younger, but he wasn't comfortable striding around naked, even when Lovino was the only other person in the room. Even when Arthur was _alone._ He'd indulged in a pair on a whim when he'd first gotten the position at the gallery, nearly two years ago now, and enjoyed the feel of them so much that he bought at least one new pair a month, although he only wore the pants. Back in his closet at Lovino's house he had a stack of silk pajama tops still with tags on, and he'd been buying new ones in every city they'd stayed in, calling them his souvenirs.

He took a break from his book to run a hand over these (just purchased in Paris), as always enjoying the texture and sight. Arthur sighed happily. Silk pajamas were wonderful. Now he understood why Lovino liked silk boxers so much (he briefly looked at the green boxers Lovino now sported), although Arthur still preferred his boxer briefs. Hmm. Maybe those came in silk? He'd have to look into that when they got home. Didn't want Lovino to find out and think he was some kind of fashion-crazed git. Especially not about underwear. That might be disturbing.

When Lovino finally closed the laptop and came to bed, Arthur closed his book and scooted back to sit against the headboard. "Your turn tonight," he specified, pulling up the covers over his legs.

"Mm, _thanks_, bastard." Lovino jumped on top of him eagerly, eyes wide, grinning.

"No, no, no! That's not what I was talking about." Arthur pushed him away.

"Well, then, what?"

"Come here; sit next to me, and tonight, if you would be so kind, I'd very much like to hear about _your_ childhood."

"Oh. Are you sure? It's kind of depressing."

"I can take it. I feel like a git for not asking you about it sooner, it's true. But I was never really sure whether you'd want to talk about it. If you don't want to tell me –"

"No, I made up my mind that if you ever asked, I'd tell you, so, all right, tonight's as good as any other night." Lovino joined him under the covers and sat back against the headboard as well.

"Do you want me to turn the lights off?"

"Y-yes. Please."

Arthur hurried to comply and slipped quickly back into the bed, sitting next to him again. "There. I'm all ears."

"You're all _eyebrows._"

Arthur snorted. "Yes, and you're a git. Now stop fooling around."

"All right. Where should I start?"

"Well, let's see. You already told me about you and Feliciano growing up together. Was – was your real father still alive back then?" He took Lovino's hand.

"No. He died when I was really young, just three years old. I don't remember him at all. Mamma never talked much about him; I don't even know how he died."

"Oh."

"It's kind of pathetic, I know. My stepfather once tried to talk to me about it, but it was right after – it was – well, I wasn't ready to talk to him about my parents, and I never opened the topic again. I'm guessing he could have told me some shit about him, but…I never felt strong enough to ask."

Lovino sounded a little maudlin. Arthur decided to be matter-of-fact about the discussion, because he really did want to hear it, but didn't want to be too sweet about it; he knew that would make Lovino weepy. So he simply asked, "How did your mother meet him? Your stepfather, I mean?"

"She worked at the race works; you remember, her father started it. My grandfather. So, she worked there, and he, my stepfather, well, he used to flit around with a lot of stupid stuff. He was really good and attentive to his real business, but he had all these side projects, like hobbies, and he changed them all the time. That year he was into racing."

"He drove race cars?"

"Hah, no. He sponsored drivers. But he wanted them to drive Italian cars, and ours were the best. _Are_ the best," he said, pride in his voice. "So he went to the factory to speak with my grandfather, and she was there, and…apparently it was like love at first sight." He snorted. "She always said that, but that's a bunch of bullshit."

"Is it?" Arthur asked quietly, kissing the hand he still held.

There was a little silence; he felt Lovino shrug against him. "Well. I'm prepared to admit that it _might not be_ a bunch of bullshit, that's true. But I can't say definitely one way or the other."

"That's good. You're keeping an open mind." Arthur kissed his fingers again.

"Bastard. Anyway, so they dated for a little while, and then they decided to get married, and we moved to Rome."

Arthur nodded. "You told me already about how you and Feliciano kept in touch."

"Yes. Well, things changed a lot for me. A _lot. _The bastard – he had never been married before, didn't have any kids, and there I was, sort of a ready-made heir. I was eleven. Right away he started putting me into all these rich-kid situations so he wouldn't be embarrassed by this, well, rustic stepson. Prep school, piano lessons, all that shit. Shit that a rich businessman should know, to be cultured and whatever, to make the proper contacts for later life."

"But was it bad? To learn all that?"

"Ha, at the time I thought it was. I wanted to be out riding my bike and getting in fights, and instead I had to go to pansy-ass piano lessons and study fucking etiquette."

"I can see _those_ lessons did you a world of good."

Lovino burst into laughter. "Oh, bastard, you always lift my spirits. Thanks for being you." He leaned his head back against the headboard before continuing in a much softer tone. "But wh-when I was eighteen, my mother, she – she got pregnant again. With twins. She was too old for it, Arthur; she was forty. The doctors told her there were risks, but she was so in love, she kept saying that her love, her new babies, would keep her strong." He stopped speaking again.

Arthur slipped an arm around him. Even without the slight sniffling he could now hear, he knew the difficult part must be coming up.

When Lovino next spoke, his haunting, accented voice stumbled over the words quickly, as if to get them out and over with. "And she – she died. Because of the fucking babies. She had some kind of seizure, and they rushed her to the hospital…but – but she died anyway, and the fucking stupid twins lived, even though they were two months premature." Lovino was sobbing openly now. Before speaking again, he shifted position to curl up against Arthur more closely. He leaned his head on his friend's shoulder; Arthur supported him, brushing the tears from Lovino's face with his thumb.

"My – my stepfather went off the deep end; they said he was kind of nuts for a few days, and by the time he was back to his senses, the babies had died, too. And the worst part of it, the goddamned worst thing, was that I was away at university, and nobody told me until _after_ all that had happened. He got his mind back in gear just after the damn babies died, and started to arrange the funerals, and then, dammit, _then_ he called to tell me that they'd all died, and when he expected me home for the funerals." He stopped talking while he wiped more tears from his eyes. "He called me on the fucking _telephone_. He couldn't even come up to the school to tell me in person." He punched himself in the lap; Arthur held him close.

"This is why I never talk about her," Lovino then whispered. "I can't bear it. I almost couldn't stand to look at him, afterwards." His voice grew stronger. "But I did. I had to be strong for her, for her memory; I had to make sense of all this bullshit she and I had gone through, and the only way I could see to do that was to be the best heir the bastard could ever have had, and be successful, make her proud of me, and then go my own way. Take that _maledetto bastardo_ for everything I could get and get out from under his thumb, do my own thing. That's why I moved away to Washington after graduating."

"Bloody lucky for me that you did," Arthur told him in a husky tone.

Lovino nodded. "Lucky for both of us." They shared a gentle kiss, Arthur's heart aching as he tasted his lover's tears.

He cuddled Lovino closer before asking quietly, "But then, he's not alive any more, right? What happened to him?"

"Heart attack. The goddamned heartless bastard was having sex with someone, some woman he'd just met at a business conference, and he had a fucking heart attack in her bed."

"Whoa. That must have made the media happy."

"They don't know about it. Remember the personal assistant? She worked overtime for me, kept it completely out of the papers, except that he'd 'had a heart attack in bed.' That woman was a genius. Uh, the assistant, I mean, not the one my stepfather was screwing."

"Yeah, I figured it out."

"So, that was just a couple of years ago. Let's see, a little over four years ago. Of course other than some gifts to servants and charities, I got the lot, and you see just how fucking happy it's made me."

"Well, you have fun with it, right?"

"Hah, yes, _now_ I do, stupid, now that you and I are together. Back then – between the time he died and the time you and I started doing things together, well, like I told you before, it was something to keep me busy, investing it, owning different businesses. That's all. Now, with you, the fact that there's all this money floating around for us to play with, _that_ is completely incidental. I have fun with you, no matter what."

Arthur kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I have fun with you, too, money or no money, you know that." He continued the kisses on the cheek, the temple, trying to soothe his friend by humming little loving murmurs, stroking his back in that comforting way.

Lovino finally seemed to start relaxing. "Thanks for helping me through that. I was never sure whether I should share it with you or not. It always makes me so furious when I think about it, and – well – well, just, thank you."

"You're welcome." Arthur tilted Lovino's face towards him for a kiss on the lips. "If I can ever do anything to help you – with this or anything –"

"I know you will. I _know_. I…rely on that, now. It's very different, for me, to have someone like you in my life, someone I can confide in and trust absolutely. Thank you." He put his arms around Arthur's neck and hugged him tightly.

"You're welcome, Lovino, you are always welcome, you know that."

The brunet took a deep breath and drew back. "Anyway, I had a lot of trauma after that."

"Regarding your stepfather?"

"Hah! No. About women. I was so afraid to get someone pregnant…"

Arthur shrugged. "At least you and I don't have to worry about that," he joked.

Lovino didn't speak for so long that Arthur became frightened, frightened that he'd overstepped something, made a joke out of a memory too sacred…and then he heard his friend braying, absolutely _braying_ with laughter, so loudly that the people in the next hotel room started banging on the wall. "Bastard," Lovino whooped, pushing his face into a pillow, practically falling off the bed as he convulsed.

"Get a grip on yourself!" Arthur hissed at him, but it was futile. He'd never heard Lovino laugh like this before, without restraint, sustained genuine clear and happy laughter. He was so loud – even muffled by the pillow – that Arthur, worried, got up and switched on the light. Lovino was on his back, hugging the pillow as he pressed it to his face, still shaking with laughter. Arthur stood by the light switch waiting for him to calm down.

"Oh, my God," Lovino finally managed, dropping the pillow, wiping tears from his eyes. "That was fucking _hilarious_."

"So I gathered."

"Oh, don't be so stuffy. Come lie next to me."

Arthur turned off the lights, but opened the curtains before coming back to the bed. This was mildly worrying, though at least Lovino wasn't moping about his childhood history any more. The blond lay back on the bed, darting little peeks at his still-chuckling friend.

He then gasped as he felt Lovino's warm hand rubbing his belly. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Ha, just trying to imagine you pregnant, _mio caro_." Lovino laughed some more, and Arthur tried to pout, but although he crossed his arms defiantly, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You'd be so cute with a big belly, with my little bambino inside," Lovino then crooned to him, kissing his navel.

"Gah, shut it, wanker," he spat, but then dissolved into laughter as well, rolling onto his side. They kissed a few times. "Wonder what our kids would be like?"

This innocuous question set Lovino off again. "Ha, bastards, all of them, spoiled artistic bastards with foul mouths and big eyebrows." Arthur started to bristle, but Lovino rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "I can see it now. 'Daddy, I don't _want_ to go to fucking prissy dance lessons! I want to beat the shit out of that bastard Arthur Junior!'"

Arthur snorted and changed his voice to a high-pitched childish tone. "'Shut it, Baby Lovi, you sodding wanker! I'm going to poke your bloody eye out with my paintbrush!'" Both of them laughed at that.

"'Baby Lovi'? You're a _bastard_."

"And you're not? Wanting to get me _pregnant_?" Arthur poked him in the belly.

"Cheh. We'd better shut up about this, or we're both going to have nightmares. Come closer, lie next to me, let me hold you."

"Not sure I dare."

Lovino laughed again. "Bastard, I tell you what. I make you a solemn promise right now that I will never try to get you pregnant without your consent." He started snickering again; Arthur hit him with a pillow.

"I guess that will have to suffice," the long-suffering blond sighed. "Now, let's shut up about all that."

"Whatever you say, dear."

"Gah! _Shut it!"_

The next-door neighbor banged on the wall again, and they cracked up once more, moving to embrace each other in the dark.

…

_Mpreg is something I will never write, unless it's for some goofy short chapter like the Anagram Stories, so, this is my little way of dealing with it. _


	90. Sid Vicious, Target

**Sid Vicious – Target.** (Banksy, spray paint and emulsion on canvas, 2000)

"Hey, I'd completely forgotten about this place!" Arthur stopped along the London street. "Want to go in?"

Lovino looked. "What the hell is it? Punk stuff? Sure."

They walked into the little shop, Lovino feeling a bit self-conscious in his mainstream casual clothing. The clerk was a hardcore chick: spiky teal hair, piercings all over, tattered and torn clothes, raccoon eye makeup. He was very surprised that after all his wild fantasizing about Arthur in punk gear, the sight of this girl – who was objectively rather attractive – did absolutely nothing for him. In fact, if he'd seen her on the street, he'd probably have taken pains to avoid her. There were no other customers in the store.

"Don't mind us, we're just looking around," Arthur told her, and she went back to the wrap desk, shrugging and opening a magazine.

Lovino eyed the bewildering array of merchandise.

"Want to try some things on?" his friend asked.

"Nh. No. You do it. Put on something like you used to wear, and come sh-show me." Dammit, his blood was already racing at the idea; he'd been thinking about this almost every day since Arthur had first mentioned it. But Arthur didn't seem to notice his quasi-discomfort; he smiled an acknowledgement and turned to the racks. Lovino turned his back to both him and the clerk, to get himself under control.

In a few minutes Arthur had an armful of gear. "I'll be right out." He swiped some things from a counter display and headed to the back to change.

Lovino idly thumbed through a rack of jackets while he waited, then cast his eye over the boots on display. Huh, some of these, he really liked. Maybe he'd get a pair. After all, boots by themselves wouldn't make him look stupid; they were all pretty badass, and would be good protection on the Ducati, too. Eventually he decided on the black ones with the purple skull on the toes. Yeah. He'd try them on later.

Three minutes later Arthur emerged from the dressing room and Lovino nearly had a heart attack. "Christ," he choked out; this was the only response he could think of.

Hearing that, Arthur stopped walking and brazenly posed in place, smirking. The girl didn't look up from the desk. Lovino let his eyes and mind register every fucking detail of this look.

He started with the boots: black, with flames painted on them, thick soles, not laced. Slouchy dark jeans, strategically torn, so that he could see Arthur was no longer wearing his underwear. Several chains looped from the belt buckle around to the side of the jeans; straps with big buckles wrapped around the pant legs, tightened like bondage restraints. Arthur's black sleeveless shirt was also ripped here and there, just barely showing skin, and Lovino's brain dimly noted that the blond's arms seemed a little more buff than he'd realized. Dammit, that black fabric against the pale skin –!

Arthur wore some kind of big silver ring on his middle finger, which he impudently extended to beckon Lovino closer. But he didn't move yet, continuing his appraisal upwards.

Wide studded leather cuffs on his wrists, bright red, and to match, a fucking _spiked collar._ Red leather with silver spikes. Amber eyes widened further as he saw a silver stud piercing Arthur's right ear. Had he always had a pierced ear? Even his hair looked messier than usual, and the smirk on his friend's face was downright nasty. Lovino shivered. It was even better than his fantasies. _Dammit._

He spared a second to glance at the clerk – still oblivious, thank God – before walking hesitantly over to him. In those boots, the blond now had a height advantage, which just added more fuel to Lovino's fire; he wanted to dominate this rough bastard. Arthur looked wild and dangerous, and Lovino – well – "Bastard, I don't know whether I want to fight you, or fuck you."

Arthur's whole attitude had altered with the change of gear. "What makes you think I'd let you do either, tosser?" He shoved Lovino away with a palm to the chest, one eyebrow raised mockingly.

"Get back in the fucking dressing room," Lovino hissed, pushing him backwards.

The blond didn't go, instead kept smirking. "Make me."

Instead of forcing the issue, Lovino broke his gaze from Arthur's and stalked over to the clerk, pulling out his wallet. Right now he was very, very glad he was a wealthy man. "Here," he growled, handing her some banknotes. "Two grand; it's all I have with me. Go outside the store for fifteen minutes and don't let anybody in."

Her eyes widened. First, she counted the money, then looked back at Arthur, who winked at her. Now grinning, she shoved the cash into her bra and left the store, taking a little stool to sit on. Lovino waited until she'd sat down and turned back to his friend. "Now get back in the fucking dressing room," he repeated, grabbing Arthur's arm.

"Bossy bastard. Let go of me." Arthur grinned and yanked his arm out of Lovino's grip – but he did start sauntering to the dressing room, preceding his friend. Lovino looked at his ass in those torn jeans and groaned in anticipation.

When they were out of sight of the shop windows he slammed Arthur up against the wall, pressing one knee between his legs. "Son of a bitch, Arthur, you – you –"

"Yeah, I get it," the blond sneered, grabbing him by the back of the neck for a fierce kiss with a lot of tongue action. "Bollocks. Wish I still had my tongue piercing. You'd be on your bloody _knees _by now." He laughed, flicking his tongue around teasingly.

Lovino moaned at that and crushed closer, sliding his hands into the waistband of the jeans. "I'll be on my knees in a minute anyway, fucking punk bastard." They hadn't had rough sex for a long time. Too long. He flicked open the blond's belt buckle with an eager, practiced hand.

…

Bruised, sweaty, they dressed in their original clothing and left the changing room. "Buy all this shit," Lovino panted, licking his sore lips where Arthur had bitten him, rubbing his hand over his face in his agitation. "All of it. Even the earring."

"No kidding. But let me help you pick something out."

"N-not here. Not around that damn clerk. Buy this, and we can go somewhere else later."

"All right." Arthur knocked on the front door to let the girl know she could come back in. She took one look at the two of them and smiled, although the flustered Lovino was staring at the racks of clothing, trying to ignore her and scrubbing his hands through his hair repeatedly. He felt like an idiot. A sated idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

"You want all this?" she asked. "It's a lot of gear."

Arthur winked at her. "I got a little bit extra, too."

"Next time let me join you," she laughed, scooping all his things into bags and completing the sale.

Lovino growled a little at that, but he knew they wouldn't be returning. Arthur took the bags and they left the store together.

"Let's get back to the hotel."

"_Yes._"

"Grab a taxi, though; I don't want to haul all this junk back on the tube."

"Yes, boss." Arthur laughed at him and flagged down a taxi.

When they were seated Lovino flopped his head back against the seat. "Dammit."

"You know," the blond pointed out, "the way you felt about that –"

"Not in the cab, bastard."

Arthur pouted. "Yes, all right."

…

In the hotel room, they put the bags near the closet. "So anyway, the way you felt about seeing me that way? That – that's kind of how I felt that night at the gallery, when I first saw all your tattoos. You looked – threatening, and sexy, and I wanted to run my tongue all over them."

"Shut up about that." Lovino stripped quickly and got on the bed. "Get over here."

"I'm not going to shut up about that! I want to finish saying what I want to say." Arthur leisurely (teasingly?) undressed himself.

"Fine, say it, dammit, just get over here!" Lovino plumped up the pillows almost angrily.

"Well, I couldn't run my tongue over them, you know. Not that night; we still barely knew each other."

Lovino stopped scowling and began to think about that. "Yeah, if you'd tried anything funny that night, I'd probably have killed you, and then fired you."

Arthur started to laugh. "What I meant was, I should have made _you_ wait six months from today, before you could get your hands on me." He stretched in the afternoon sunlight. "Just think of what you're going to do to me when I've got tattoos _and_ put on my punk stuff." He slithered onto the bed, running his hands up Lovino's legs.

"You're a fucking malicious bastard, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Good. Come here," Lovino growled, and that was the last coherent thing either of them said for quite a long time.

…

_Kastiyana's description of the punk junkie Arthur in the fic "Bittersweet Poison" motivated me to put punk Arthur in here much earlier than I'd planned. _


	91. Form Follows Man

**Form Follows Man.** (Mark Tobey, oil painting, 1941)

Somewhere around four in the morning Lovino finally broke away from Arthur and collapsed backwards on the bed. "Bastard, you're killing me," he breathed.

"Ha, not my fault I'm too hot for you." But Arthur simply rolled onto his side and ran his palm over the koi. "If I'd had any idea that you'd get so turned on, I would have dug out my old things a long time ago."

"I – I think we're going to have to save it for special occasions. I'm _exhausted_." Lovino groaned a little.

"That's a shame, because I feel great. Energetic as hell. Come on, come closer." Arthur stuck his finger into his friend's navel and wiggled it around a little.

"Forget it! Just – just relax with me for a little while. All right? Tell me about that pierced ear."

"What about it? It's a pierced ear." Trying to provoke a reaction, he then bent to lick and kiss the dragon tattoo.

Lovino was apparently too exhausted to pull his arm away. "Yeah, but you never wear earrings at home."

Arthur sat up again. "I told you, I gave up on all this a while back. That's why I don't have the tongue piercing anymore; I took the barbell out and it healed up. But ear piercings don't heal up so fast, if ever."

Lovino started fidgeting on the bed again. "Stop talking about the – the tongue piercing, bastard."

"Hey, you brought it up." Arthur flicked his tongue around a little, but Lovino wasn't looking.

"So – so why did you give it up? You were totally badass, you know. Not just the way you looked – which was pretty fucking hot –"

"I did get that impression, yes," Arthur stated flatly, and Lovino poked him.

"Shut up. I meant you were, you were acting sort of nasty, brutal. I – I liked that a lot."

"Yeah, I got that impression, too."

"Will you stop being a smartass! Tell me why you changed so much!" Lovino angrily rolled away from him and rested his chin in his hands, atop his pillow.

"I didn't really make a conscious decision about it. Well, I did decide to stop wearing the piercings, but – eh, I don't know, I just felt it was time for a change. Also, it's bloody hard to get a real job, looking like that. Do you think you'd have hired me?" He chuckled a little, in the dark, and slid his palm over the small of his friend's back.

Lovino snorted. "Bastard, I just might have! Dammit. But yeah, I know what you mean. But did you act like that all the time, before?"

"Pretty much. It's a defensive thing, you know. I was always kind of insecure, but when I looked like that I felt very tough. Made it easier to get by; people let me alone, most of the time."

This softened Lovino, as Arthur had known it would; the brunet rolled onto his back again and held his arms out. "Don't be insecure, _amato_. Just be yourself."

Arthur snuggled into his arms with a cheeky little grin. "Tonight, myself is still bloody aroused. Can you handle any more, wanker?"

Lovino let out a dramatic sigh. "What did you have in mind?" The blond leaned forward and whispered something into his friend's ear, making him laugh. "Yes. That's fine. Go for it."

Arthur's mouth began moving on Lovino's warm body. "Mm. Going to be morning soon."

"I don't even care anymore," Lovino moaned. "Just – just keep doing what you're doing."

"Don't worry. You'll like it."

"Mm, bastard, I already like it. Don't stop."

…

Later yet:

"You know, you can dress however you like. Don't feel like you have to dress a certain way just because society expects you to."

"Lovino, you are ridiculously good to me. What would you say if I started dressing like that all the time?" Arthur's voice was merry in the dark.

"Don't. You'd start riots, and I don't want to have to pay damages for all that kind of shit!"

"Git. I love you."

"Mm. Love you, too, you punk-ass bastard."

…


	92. Birthday Party

**Birthday Party.** (William Powell Frith, oil on canvas, 1854)

Arthur cleared his throat. "I feel like an idiot, so don't say anything, but I finally looked up some cruise ship stuff this morning. I forgot all about it."

"So did I, bastard; don't feel bad. What did you find out?"

"Depends when you want to leave. There's a sailing in two weeks."

"Dammit," Lovino realized, "I forgot to talk to my guys about picking up the car. Fuck. I'll have to call someone today." He drank some coffee. "It's out of Southampton, right? Yeah, two weeks is all right. Let's leave York this Sunday, but go spend another week in London, and then head down to Southampton for the last couple days before the sailing. That'll give me time to sort out the car, and we can go shopping for my – for, for whatever else we need to get." He ran a hand over his face.

"Hmm. You mean punk junk for you?" Arthur laughed at him a little.

"Yes, that's what I meant, dammit."

"We don't have to, if you don't really want to."

Lovino lowered his voice, grinning. "I want, bastard! I want to see if I can make you, uh, you know, as crazy as you make me."

"You already do, my Italian stallion."

"Shut the fuck up."

Arthur flicked a drop of tea at him. "All right, all right. I'll check with the hotel in London and book the cruise later. But – you know, we bought a lot of stuff on this trip. French clothes, punk clothes, easel – should we buy a new suitcase or two to get it all home?"

"No. Box it up and ship it. Then we don't have to mess with carrying it all around at home, getting two cabs, whatever, when we get there. Will you look into that? The concierge should be able to help."

"Yes, of course I will. I'm happy to be going home. All this travel is really interesting, but it will be nice to relax in our own place again."

"Yeah. I'm kind of beat, too. The pisser is that I really ought to go back to Rome and see how the factory's doing. March is supposed to be my quarterly visit."

"Do you really need to visit every quarter? Now that the factory is the only business you own, maybe you could pare back to three times a year, make longer visits?"

"Nh. Probably. I'll think about it. But then I wouldn't get to see Feliciano as often."

"Oh. I'd forgotten."

"No, wait! Bastard, I've just had a really good idea. Do you think you could handle a little more socializing before we go?"

"What do you mean?"

Lovino set his cup down. "What if I asked Feli and – and the potato bastard to come up here, spend a day or two with us before we go home, and then take the Ferrari back?"

Arthur reached out and felt his forehead. "Are you all right?"

"Stop that," Lovino laughed, smacking his hand away. "I can deal with the bastard. Just listen. Feli was with me when I bought that car. I know he loves it almost as much as I do, and I bet they'd have fun together driving through Europe with it." He got pensive for a moment. "He'd be extremely careful with it, I know that; he's very smart and careful about cars. And I wouldn't want him to have to drive all that way alone."

Arthur gave him a sentimental look, but Lovino wasn't paying attention. "Could they spare the time off?"

"I don't know. Let me call him and ask." Lovino pulled out his cell phone and dialed Feliciano's office number. When his friend answered, they burst into a torrent of Italian; Arthur tried to understand, but…he couldn't. Not more than the occasional word here and there, and of course "London" and "Arthur." Bollocks. He wondered whether he'd ever be good enough at Italian to please Lovino, so they could move to Italy. He strongly suspected this was why his friend had vetoed all the other locations, because deep down he wanted to move back to Italy. But Arthur knew that Lovino wouldn't pressure him on it. If he could only feel _comfortable_ with the language, he'd certainly give it a go, but…most days it was still all random gibberish to him. He sighed. He really would make an effort, once they got back home and he had some kind of routine back in place. Maybe he'd take some classes.

"Yeah, it's all set." Lovino's words broke into his musings. "They'll try to get here next Tuesday; we'll have a couple days, and then they'll drive the car back. They won't have a lot of leisure time to meander through the continent like we did, but knowing Feli, they'll have a lot of fun getting home." He laughed a little. "All right with you?"

"Sure, I don't mind. Whatever's most convenient for you. Think they'd want to see you in your new punk gear? Ha ha. Bet you'd like Ludwig to see that."

"Dammit! You will absolutely not mention that in front of them. Nothing about any of that. Do you understand me?" Lovino's look was downright fierce as he punched the table.

"Nervous git. If that's what you want, that's what I'll do. You know that." Arthur waved a hand airily. "I only exist to make you happy."

"You're the most supercilious bastard I _ever met_."

"You wouldn't want me any other way." Arthur flashed him a grin.

"I want you any way I can have you, idiot. Come on. Eat up; let's call the London hotel, get rooms, and all that."

"Yessir, boss."

"When we get home, Arthur, you're in big trouble. I can wield that spatula a lot harder than I did before."

"Can't wait, you bossy git. Shift your arse; let's move."

…

Later that afternoon, the two of them wandered down the Shambles holding hands, smiling, peacefully enjoying a bright March day. "Bloody hell!" Arthur suddenly yelled, dropping his hand and turning to look at Lovino with a fierce, angry scowl. "I cannot _believe_ you did it again!" A few passersby stared at the rude young man, but then moved on. He shoved Lovino away, hard.

"Shut up." Lovino punched him back just as forcefully. Dammit, he'd known Arthur would remember eventually. _Dammit._

Arthur shoved him again, so that he fell back against the wall of a building. "You are a complete and total _spoiled_ _bastard!"_

"So what? You knew that already!" Lovino pushed him back.

A policeman approached. "What's all this, then?" he asked.

"Ah – excuse us. We're fine," Lovino told the policeman. He hurriedly led his friend away by the unresisting arm before they made it into the local newspapers for acting like teenaged hoodlums.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled. He turned to check on the baffled policeman, but then trudged on, hands shoved deep into jeans pockets, scowling at the sidewalk.

"Ah, I'll be all right, forget about it." Lovino decided the best way to get over this was to pretend it had never happened. He tilted his head back to look at the sky, nonchalant.

But no. "You just piss me off so much sometimes. I can't believe your birthday was yesterday and we completely missed it, and you didn't say anything. _Again_. Tosser."

"It's no big deal."

"It _is_ a bloody big deal! Why are you so damn sensitive about it?" Arthur was still quite angry.

"Look, shut up about it in the middle of the fucking street! If you want to argue, do it quietly, or let's find a big empty place where we can yell all we want? A park or something?"

Arthur let out a big breath. "Bugger," he said faintly. "Why didn't you say something?" He started to walk again, and Lovino scurried to catch up.

"Same reason I didn't say anything last year. Don't like people making a fuss."

"Lovino, you're a _selfish_ _arse_."

"Yeah, well, you knew that already, stupid."

"You're right, but I still keep hoping you'll get over it someday. At least with me, git! I want to find a way to celebrate; I want to show you how special you are to me."

"Bastard, you don't think I already know?" He stopped walking again and grabbed Arthur's arm. "You seriously think that I don't know how much we – we mean to each other?"

Arthur let all his breath out very fast. "No. I do know that you understand, and I understand. It's just – oh, forget the whole bloody discussion." He walked on, hanging his head.

Lovino didn't quite know what else to say, so they continued walking in silence.

"Sorry," he offered after a while.

"Nh."

"People used to buy me presents," he offered. "People who didn't know me well, and I – I –"

Arthur, stunned, turned to him. "_That's_ what it is? That bloody 'currying favor' business?"

"Well, yeah! What the hell else would it be?" Lovino was perplexed.

"I don't know! I thought maybe you had some birthday trauma, or something."

"No, no birthday trauma, I just got sick of people cozying up to me just because it was my birthday. Trying to get a piece of the pie."

"Don't be stupid. You know I'm not like that."

"I know. Old habits die hard, though."

"Eh, forget it. Will you let me do something for you tomorrow, to celebrate?"

He considered this. "As long as it's just you and me, fine. No fucking parties or anything."

"Who the hell would we party with? The hotel staff? I'll try to come up with something low-key and still memorable."

"Good."

They walked on, and eventually Arthur said with a tiny smile, "Git."

The brunet took his hand again, relieved. "Bastard."

…

_As soon as I finished that "we forgot our anniversary" chapter I hurried to write this one so I wouldn't forget!_


	93. Red Car Crash

**Red Car Crash.** (Andy Warhol, silkscreen ink on linen, 1963)

Lovino woke in the night, crying loud wracking sobs. He looked around him wildly in the dark, not quite certain where he was, or why, just feeling a desperate sense of pain and loss.

Arthur raised himself on an elbow and looked at him with deep concern. "Lovino? Are you all right?"

"Oh!" Still crying, Lovino reached for him.

Arthur gathered him into a strong, comforting embrace, holding him tightly, crooning soothing syllables into his ear. "Hush, my love, it's all right, just a bad dream? Hush, don't worry." He stroked the dark hair and rolled them over so that Lovino was resting securely on top of him.

But Lovino couldn't stop crying; he felt like an idiot, dammit, but he couldn't stop yet. He cuddled as close to Arthur as he could, his arms around the blond's neck, and just let the tears flow like a little child. He could feel the little kisses on his hair, the elegant murmured voice trying to calm him down, but he was still too upset. "Arthur, Arthur…"

"I'm here, don't worry. Hush. Everything is all right. You'll be all right." Lovino felt Arthur's hand begin to stroke his back. This had a soothing effect as always, and he began to take deep breaths and relax, though the tears did not instantly stop.

Under this tender care he soon calmed enough to wipe his eyes and sniffle one last time. "I'm – I'm sorry I woke you," he whispered, his lips against Arthur's collarbone.

Arthur smoothed the hair off Lovino's face. "Don't worry about that at all. Are you all right? Was it a bad dream?"

The Italian's lip quivered a little as he remembered the dream. "Yes. Very, very bad."

Arthur pulled the covers up around them both, still holding Lovino close. "Snakes? Monsters?"

But his friend was not mocking him, Lovino knew. "No. I dreamed you – you were in a car crash, and – and you died." He started crying again. "Dammit."

"I can see that would have been bloody depressing," Arthur admitted, making his friend snort through his tears. "But don't worry. Dreams can't hurt you, and I'm here with you." He kissed Lovino's forehead.

"Don't want to lose you."

"Shh, not going anywhere without you. Just relax. I'll watch over you, all right? I'll keep you safe."

Lovino nodded and hugged him more tightly. Arthur continued to stroke his back, and soon the brunet relaxed enough to slip back into sleep, warm and comfortable, protected.

…

He awoke hours later, still atop Arthur, who was sleeping again. The blond was snoring slightly and his relaxed hands had dropped from the embrace.

No longer in the grip of the fierce nightmare, Lovino felt a rush of tenderness accompanied by some sentimental tears; as before, he felt himself weep and allowed it, but this time quietly, so as not to wake his dear friend. He said a short prayer of thanksgiving for this friendship, this love, which had so dramatically changed his whole life. Selfish bastard that he was, the brunet knew he'd had no reason to expect such a remarkable gift. Lying in the unfamiliar hotel room, gazing at the sleeping Arthur, he felt a new and deep sense of peace. The tears stopped; Lovino smiled in the dark, and made a little vow to try to be a better person. To be worthy of Arthur, and to help _him_ fight off any nightmares – real or imagined – that might trouble him.

He managed to slip off his friend without waking him and kissed his brow. "Sleep well, _mio caro_," he whispered happily, before returning to his own side of the bed and covering them both up properly.

For reassurance, and just because he could, he took Arthur's strong hand in his before allowing himself to fall asleep again.

Lovino slept deeply and dreamlessly for the rest of the night.

…


	94. The Loves of the Gods

**The Loves of the Gods.** (Annibale Carracci, fresco, completed 1608)

The belated birthday plans included a hike and picnic on the north Yorkshire moors. You could wander for hours up there without meeting a single soul, Arthur had said, and Lovino hoped that would be exactly how their day would go. He wanted to find someplace where they could be alone, be romantic together, share what was in their hearts. It was a beautiful day, and he felt very affectionate and sentimental after that harsh dream last night. They'd gone for a short walk through Arthur's childhood village, where his friend had pointed out the home he'd grown up in, and now they were driving the Ferrari to a safe parking place on the moors. "I hope I can handle this," Lovino grumbled, but he wasn't really worried.

"Don't worry! What are you worried about, anyway?"

"I'm – I'm just not one for the nature shit, you know? I'm a city boy."

"What's to worry about? One day, wandering the moors? Not even a whole day, you know. Just be calm."

"Yes, all right. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it," Lovino confessed shyly. "If I'm going to do nature walks and things, I'll be much happier doing them with you." He blushed and looked out the window of the car.

"Sweet thing. I'll always try to make you happy."

Lovino smiled – just a little, and Arthur grinned.

…

"This is – really unusual, bastard. I had no idea there were places like this in the world."

"I love the moors. Favorite place ever."

"Really? Why? It seems kind of bleak." They spread the picnic cloth on a small patch of cleared ground and began setting up the little picnic of bread, cheese, walnuts and wine.

"That's just it. They're so desolate. Nobody else to worry about. I can just wander along and not have to deal with the noise of civilization, or worrying about fake-smiling at strangers on the street. Talk to myself, or whatever. When I'm up here it's like little pieces of my consciousness float out into the universe. I feel free, unconfined. Like the whole world is a blank canvas, and I can paint my life however I want it to be."

Lovino was once again surprised at this glimpse of his lover's soul. "Have you always been so – like that? Sometimes you say such – such dreamy things, things that stretch out far beyond the boundaries of our normal conversations. It surprises me, and it pleases me, too." He turned a little red, but smiled softly.

"I've always been a dreamer. How else could I paint the things I do, the visions in my mind? And then, who but a dreamer would do some of the airheaded stuff I've done?" Arthur snorted at himself. "Yes, I've been like that all my life. Romantic, I used to consider it, until the gits at school made fun of me for it." He sat cross-legged and put his hands on his knees, staring at the horizon. "You learn to keep it bottled up, when you're mocked for it."

Lovino shifted closer on the blanket. "You said something about that once before. We were walking on the Mall one night?" Arthur nodded in remembrance. "But you don't always show it. Maybe you need to feel at peace in your physical surroundings? You know you can be like that as much as you want, with me."

"I like to think that I can," Arthur confessed to him, "but – but sometimes I worry that I'll be too sappy for you, that you'll think of me as too – too – I don't know, girly or needy or something." He turned his face to Lovino. "I would shower you with flowers and poetry, if I knew how, because my heart is so full of you." Nervous tears formed in his brilliant green eyes, but he didn't look away.

Lovino reached out and held him close. "I – I would do that for you, too, if I dared," he whispered, his lips caressing Arthur's windblown hair. "I've never even let myself think that way, much, because, you know, it's – it's not what society wants to see in a strong, successful man. Not even when he's with a woman. But if I could let myself, Arthur, I'd do it for you."

The blond nestled closer and rested his chin on Lovino's shoulder, slipping an arm around his waist. "I know it's difficult for you. You've spent so much of your life in that defensive shell that it would be very hard for you to change, and I wouldn't want you to change your nature just for me. You're perfect to me, just as you are." He drew back and smiled. "But…knowing that you think about it? That fills up all those lonely dark corners of my heart."

"I don't want you to have any lonely corners in your heart, _mio caro._ Let me take care of you, and fill your heart with light." Lovino placed a finger under Arthur's chin and kissed him, holding him close on the deserted moor.

…

"You're a fucking _devil_. This was the whole reason you brought me out here? You're a total fiend. When you asked about making love outdoors –"

Arthur, naked, laughed in delight and stretched languidly before checking their surroundings. Nope. Still nobody else in sight. "But it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Bastard, of course it was. Come closer and hold me."

Arthur obliged. "Wish I could hold you like this for the rest of our lives," he murmured into the beautiful ear.

Lovino stroked his hair. "Be damn hard to get anything else done, though."

"It's damn hard now, wanker."

"See? Total sex fiend!"

"And you know you love it."

Lovino sighed in mock exasperation. "Well…yes."

"Happy birthday, _mio caro,_" Arthur then laughed.

"Thank you. This is the best birthday I've had in years. I'll have to come up with something equally memorable for yours."

Arthur shook his head. "Every day with you is like a celebration. You don't need to do a thing."

"Stupid. _You_ didn't need to do _this_."

"But I – but – " The blond realized he had already lost this one, and laughed. "Fine."

"Come on. Let's get dressed and go back. I'm hungry, and we're all out of food."

Arthur sat up and poked him. "That's all you can think about."

"Well, that and the fact that a bunch of sheep are heading our way. Get up. Nature, I can take. Sheep approaching my naked body, not so much."

"Scaredy-cat." But they jumped up and hastily got dressed. "Sheep aren't carnivores, you know."

"Idiot. Just get me out of here."

"Of course. Happy birthday."

"Cheh, yes, all right, shut up about it!" Lovino started sprinting back towards the car, and Arthur, shouldering the picnic backpack, chased him all the way back, both of them laughing like children.

…


	95. Berceuse

_There was a pretty big blunder in the last chapter. It's March! Naked, in March, on the moors? I don't think so. Sorry for this inaccuracy. _

…

**Berceuse in D-flat Minor. **(Frédéric Chopin, composition for piano, 1844)

"I can't believe how tired I am. Do you mind if we just eat in the hotel restaurant tonight?" Lovino slouched his way up the stairs to their room.

"That's fine. I know we didn't exactly have the most fortifying lunch," Arthur laughed. "I could use a shower, too." He too was tired, but his heart was full. "Will the hotel restaurant be festive enough for you? Since it's a birthday dinner?"

"Yes, it's fine. I'm not fussy."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "Liar!"

Both of them laughed. "Cheh, all right, I am pretty fucking fussy, but for tonight the hotel restaurant will be fine. Don't go telling them it's a birthday dinner, though, all right? And let me shower first. I want to check emails and things before we go down to eat; I can do that while you're showering."

"Sure, yeah. If I fall asleep while you're in there, wake me up when you're done."

"Thanks." They entered the room; Lovino immediately went into the bathroom, and Arthur, kicking off his shoes, rummaged through the dresser for some clean casual clothes. He laid them on the bed and then flopped down next to them.

He didn't fall asleep after all, daydreaming about their day on the moors; when Lovino came out of the bathroom wrapped in his towel, Arthur hopped up and went in to shower as well.

"Hey," Lovino said, sticking his head into the bathroom. "If I'm not here when you get out, just come down and meet me in the hotel bar, all right?"

"All right."

…

Ah. Arthur hadn't realized the hotel bar had live music in the evenings. That might be nice. Crossing the lobby, he could hear a beautiful piano piece being played. At times like this Arthur wished he'd studied music a bit more; he couldn't place things like this, although he would have called it by the generic term "classical" if he'd been asked. It reminded him of the music Roderich had played for them in Zurich.

He entered the bar, eyes sweeping the room for Lovino, letting the flow of the intricate music wash over him. It seemed like a sweet way to wind down their day.

And then he saw him. Sitting at the piano, playing the sweet music! His eyes were closed; hair still damp curled slightly on his forehead. Eyes _closed?_ Lovino was playing this from memory? Arthur stayed standing where he was, refusing the offer of a waiter to show him to a table, wanting to absorb the astonishing music, the scene, the memory. He already knew he'd paint this – a full-scale painting, not a dainty memory book watercolor – when they got back home. He'd make rough sketches later tonight. It was inspiring.

Lovino concluded his playing and opened his eyes to a smattering of applause from bar patrons, running his hand through his hair, before spotting Arthur. He froze – almost comically keeping his hand in his hair – before either of them moved; Arthur smiled brilliantly at him and crossed to the piano.

"Breathtaking," he said, simply, extending both his hands. Lovino took them, smiling nervously, and rose. After an awkward few seconds, they grinned at each other and let go, turning to segue to the hotel's restaurant together.

…

"I would like to ask you a favor," Arthur began, hesitantly, as they waited for their desserts.

"Of course you can _ask._ What is it?"

"When we figure out where we're going to live, could – could we get a piano?" He turned such a pleading look on Lovino that the brunet burst into laughter.

"I will definitely accede to that request, my friend," he laughed.

"Well – but – but only if you're going to actually play it," Arthur went on in earnest, making his friend laugh even harder.

"Bastard, you think I'd buy a piano just for show? No. If you want to have a piano and listen to me play, well, yes, we can do that. All right? Don't expect a fucking concert every night, but…every now and then, I don't mind a bit," he concluded, in a softer tone.

"You really are the most accommodating git ever. Thanks, birthday boy."

"Shut the hell up."

…

_Hey, a piano composition is art, too._

_A berceuse is a lullaby. I have the poignant feeling that Lovino memorized this one when his mother was pregnant, so he could surprise and please her after the babies were born, and that this is the only piece he ever committed to memory. But maybe that's too sad._


	96. Acanthus Design

**Acanthus Design.** (William Morris, wallpaper design, 1875)

"So…do you actually know where to shop for something, so we don't have to go back to that same shop? I really feel like an ass."

"Huh. I thought you enjoyed it."

"Don't be a smartass. You know I did. I just feel stupid about maybe running into that fucking clerk again."

Arthur took his hand as they wandered down the road. "Don't worry. I know just where to go."

But Lovino jerked his hand away. "Bastard, I'm not feeling very – very romantic, right now, all right? No hand-holding? Somehow I feel like two guys, holding hands, shopping for punk shit, is too fucking contradictory."

"Hah. Brave boy. But, whatever makes you happy. We could hold hands and skip the shopping?" He gave Lovino a sweet smile, but the brunet refused to cave in.

"Absolutely not. I've been looking forward to this for a very long time."

"M-me too, wanker," Arthur stammered, turning red, and Lovino laughed out loud and patted him on the back.

"We're going to drive each other to exhaustion, one of these days."

"Maybe so, but what a way to go…anyway, here's our shop."

"Already? Huh. This place is a lot bigger than the other one."

"I thought you'd like that, because you can be more anonymous here. And it's probably full of people shopping – it usually is – so nobody will pay much attention to us." Arthur had his earring and torn muscle shirt on, along with his new flame boots, but had left off the rest of the jewelry and was wearing plain jeans; Lovino had tried to dress as edgily as possible from his own wardrobe, all in black. His t-shirt sported a black foil print of a grenade, so subtle as to be unnoticeable at a glance.

"Good. Thanks." Lovino elbowed him, in lieu of a hug, since they were now entering the shop.

…

Partially because he'd felt nervous and silly – and partially to tease Arthur, if he could – Lovino had chosen to try on each item separately, rather than putting on a full outfit all at once. He was having a lot of fun trying to figure out which things looked best on him, and which might drive his friend crazy. A pair of black jeans, slashed and torn, figured prominently in tonight's plans. He grinned somewhat self-consciously. Now he had an enormous pile of items – including the same purple skull boots the other store had had, he'd been happy to see. Lovino hadn't quite felt up to wearing a collar, or the cuffs (he kept thinking of them as bracelets, which was just too fucking girly), but he'd chosen a skull ring and some other accoutrements, a belt, some chains.

He sat back on the dressing room's little bench, wearing his own clothes, looking at the mounds of stuff on the floor. "Hey, bastard, are you out there?"

"Yes?"

"Come in here."

"Oh, gladly," Arthur laughed, and came in. "Whoa! What a mess. Why are you dressed in your own things? I thought you'd show me something."

"Heh. I'll show you something, but not until later." Lovino felt very arrogant right now, and laughed a little at the disappointed expression on his friend's face. "Help me carry all this shit to the cash register."

They gathered up armloads of items. "Guess we'll have to arrange for another shipment back home."

"Yeah, but that isn't a problem. Come on."

While they waited at the register, Arthur sounded artificial as he asked, "Do you want to get a piercing?"

Lovino's breath caught. He hadn't even considered that. "L-let me think about it."

"Sure. We can talk about it over lunch if you like."

…

They'd dropped the items in the hotel room; Lovino had instantly changed into his new boots, but left the other items for later.

Seated at the lunch table, he asked Arthur about piercings. "I have a couple questions about this."

"Go ahead; I'll try to be helpful."

"Does – does it hurt?"

Arthur burst into loud laughter. "_That's_ what you're concerned about?"

"Stop laughing, bastard!" Lovino kicked him under the table. "Stop!"

"Ow." The blond wheezed a bit but managed to get himself under control. "Ha, but that was a good one. You're seriously worried about that?"

Lovino nodded, red-faced.

"Well," Arthur continued, "it stings when it first happens. The starter earring has a point on the back, like an arrowhead. They use a little gun thing to shoot it through your earlobe. So it stings right then, and for a little while afterwards. But then it settles down into a dull ache, and unless you get infected, the pain is gone in a couple of days."

"A couple of _days_?"

Arthur started snickering again. "Don't be such a big girl's blouse! After that pain is gone, after it scars up, there's no more pain. You've got all those tattoos, so I can't believe you're being so nervous about a piercing or two."

So Lovino sat back to consider this, drinking his sparkling water. "Well – other than ear piercings and – and tongue piercings, what else is there? I'm not going to get a tongue piercing," he said hurriedly. "Don't even suggest it."

"Pretty much whatever you want. There are snakebites – that's lip piercings. You could get your nipple pierced –"

"– Forget it –"

"– or your, your, ah ha ha ha…"

"Forget it! Come on, stupid, focus. First of all, I refuse to let anybody else, uh, well…"

The conversation bogged down as the two of them tried to find a way to discuss this. Lovino was red and almost continually rubbed his hand over his face; Arthur put his chin in his hand, thinking.

"Right," the blond finally announced, sitting up straight. "Right. Tell me this. Are you – are you concerned about how this may affect your business image? Because then you probably shouldn't do anything too visible. These days you could get away with an ear piercing in the business world, but probably nobody's going to take you too seriously with snakebites. But you could get your navel done, if you wanted. It wouldn't be visible to anyone unless you were swimming."

"No. Getting my navel pierced is stupid. The reason I want to do all this – well, when I used to think about it before you, it was just because it looked rough; I felt like it went with my nasty personality."

"It does."

"Fuck you. And then, after I met you, now the reason I want to do it is to drive you nuts."

"That's it? You already drive me nuts."

"Then I'll just get my ear pierced."

"Fine. Want to do it here, or wait until we get back home?"

"What the hell. Let's do it after lunch."

Arthur smirked at him. "Are you sure? You might be in too much pain to, er, to play properly tonight. I know you've got some big sexy plan in mind."

"H-how the hell did you know that?"

"Lovino, you must think I'm some kind of idiot! You've been fidgeting and grinning at me all day like some kind of demon, and you spent a fortune in there. I thought my arms were going to fall off, carrying it back to the hotel. Of _course_ you have some kind of evil payback in mind."

The brunet started laughing at him. "Ah, bastard, you know me too well. You're right. I'll get the piercing done the last day we're here, so it doesn't interfere with my – my _big sexy plan_." He raised his eyebrows.

"Right, well, just go easy on me tonight, all right?"

"Not a chance, Arthur. Not a fucking chance in hell."

…

_The chapter title is the design I've been envisioning as Lovino's shoulder tattoo all this time._

_I have those purple skull boots and I wore them today just to get in the proper mood._


	97. Joey Ramone as Icon

**Joey Ramone as Icon.** (Knox, oil and acrylic on paper, 2006)

"I'm going to feel like a real idiot if you don't think I look good in this shit," Lovino pointed out on his way into the bathroom to change.

"You know you look good no matter what." Arthur kicked back on the bed to watch the punk fashion show.

"That's my point, bastard! You – you l-like me so much that you'd totally fail to tell me if it looks sucky."

"You won't look sucky, but if you did, I'd tell you. Get a move on."

"Bastard," Lovino said automatically, as he closed the door.

Once in the bathroom, he looked over his array of new items. He was beginning to feel a little silly for having indulged in so much. What if he looked goofy in it?

Well, it was true, Arthur wouldn't make fun of him; he would be calm and point out the truth. If it didn't work out, then, well, what the fuck, he'd give Arthur the stuff that fit him, and give the rest to charity. Lovino took a deep breath and began to get changed.

Unbeknownst to the blond (he hoped), he'd swiped the spiked collar and cuffs from the dresser. For tonight, at least, he could have a little fun.

…

Arthur sat on the bed, hoping just as much as Lovino that his friend wouldn't look or feel silly in his new gear. It's not like they planned to stick around London and join the scene. He just wanted Lovino to be comfortable and have fun with the new vision of himself. Maybe they could find a good nightclub in the District where they could go once in a while, dressed like this, and not feel self-conscious? Arthur had been surprised at how much he'd missed the feeling of arrogance that style gave him. He would like to dress that way again, occasionally. (The fact that it made Lovino jump him was completely incidental. He snickered.)

There had been a time, he now reminisced, when he'd found it painfully awkward being gay and punk at the same time. He'd brazenly approached another punk once; that guy, older and intolerant, had beaten the shit out of him for suggesting it. He hadn't tried that again; too risky. And gay boys had been too scared to date him, the way he'd looked then. That was another reason he'd abandoned the esthetic, a reason he hadn't shared with Lovino. He wondered whether he ever would.

He knew Lovino didn't really think of himself as gay – it was simply that he cared for Arthur, and Arthur happened to be a man. That's just the way it was. If they ever split up, Lovino wouldn't go looking for men to date. They both knew that.

But they weren't going to split up.

As a result of all this introspection, the blond was miles away when Lovino stepped sheepishly out of the bathroom, red-faced, his hair an actual mess for a change. Arthur snapped to attention, checking him out.

And as his eyes glazed over and his mouth gaped a little, he could see Lovino's entire stance change from uncertain to confident. He struck the 'fallen angel' pose, looked right into Arthur's eyes, and smirked, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

Bugger. Lovino had always been just the physical kind of man he desired most, lean and dark, but right now – _oh_ –

Arthur was still staring at the tattered jeans, the red koi peeking through the rents in the dark green t-shirt, the – the spiked collar? The _cuffs_? Still smirking, Lovino stuck his tongue out a little, biting down on it, and Arthur bit down on his in involuntary response. Ow. Bollocks!

He slipped off the bed to get a closer look. In bare feet, Arthur was now a few inches shorter than Lovino in his heavy new boots. The brunet took advantage of this to stride over and poke him in the chest. "Well, bastard?" His voice was rougher than usual, but Arthur could see the pleasure in his twinkling amber eyes as he gazed down.

"Well what?" he managed. Arthur was trying to sound cocky, but next to the towering, aggressive Lovino he felt puny and defenseless. The fact that he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and boxers didn't help. He just wanted to lie down and – and _submit_ to this savage young god.

Instead, he stepped forward and tried to grab him, but Lovino pushed him away again. "Tell me what you think, dammit."

"C-can't you tell?" He reached for him again and Lovino pushed him once more; Arthur was now up against the wall.

"Maybe. I want to hear it, bastard."

"Er. I – you – er." He really couldn't think of anything to say. Finally he gave up, shrugging and trying to smile. "Bloody hell, I'm glad you're mine," he muttered brokenly, and sagged against the wall.

Lovino, laughing like a madman, finally grabbed him; the pressure of his warm hands on Arthur's upper arms was welcome. "So am I, you delicious little bastard." He shoved Arthur sideways onto the bed. "Brace yourself."

…

_They _will_ go to a DC bar dressed like this, and…they will run into Alfred. _


	98. The Sorrows of the King

**The Sorrows of the King. ** (Henri Matisse, collage of gouache paper cutouts, 1952)

"Ve! This is where all the dead kings are, right? Can we go look?"

Laughing at Feliciano's terminology, Arthur led the other three into Westminster Abbey. "There are a lot of people here who weren't kings, too," he pointed out.

"Really? I admit to not knowing much about English history," Ludwig admitted. "You honor other politicians? Queens?"

"All sort of people. Writers, politicians, great thinkers. Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin are buried here."

"Seriously, ve? Newton was so smart! I want to see where he's buried."

Lovino dutifully traipsed along behind them. He was a little grumpy. He'd been staying up a little bit later than usual every night the last few weeks, to work on a surprise project for Arthur, although last night – well, he couldn't help it, he smiled again, grumpiness forgotten, as he remembered their wild night together. He'd expected it to be more or less a replay of the punk Arthur night, but it had been quite different. Louder, more athletic; they'd laughed and wrestled together all night long_._ He wouldn't want it like that every night, but dammit, he was already looking forward to the next time. Even though he was so tired.

Here he realized he'd been inattentive and glanced at Arthur to see him with a little satisfied smirk as well. Lovino blushed and rubbed his hand over his face. He felt like everything was written right there for Feli and the potato bastard to read like a book, and he most emphatically did not want that. But Arthur turned his attention back to their guests and led them on a little tour of the Abbey.

While they walked around the nave, seeking Newton, Feli chattered happily to Lovino, who kept trying to focus. "Are you glad to be going home, Lovi? Getting a little tired, maybe?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I had a lot of fun on this trip. We did a shitload of stuff, and saw a lot of things, but…it will be nice to get back home, detox a little, get back in a routine." He smiled at his old friend. "Thanks for taking care of the car for me." Feli gave him a blinding, fake grin, and Lovino punched him in the arm. He knew his friend wouldn't dare risk the Ferrari. And Feliciano knew it too.

"Here he is," Arthur called out, pointing to the Newton site.

Ludwig and Feli dutifully made "we appreciate Newton" noises while Arthur came back to stand with Lovino. "You all right?"

"Cheh, yes, fine. Just – just tired." They shared a grin before Lovino elbowed him. "Thanks for doing tour guide shit again."

"Well, I could hardly expect you to do it; you don't know London at all."

"I know. Hey – did you have fun on this trip?" He'd never really thought to ask.

"No, it sucked. Of course I did. What's the matter with you?" Arthur peered at him in concern.

"Shut up. I was just trying to be considerate."

"Try harder next time." Arthur laughed and went back to the guests.

Lovino sighed and came forward, putting his arm casually around his friend as he talked about Newton. All three of the others stopped what they were doing to stare at him. "What, bastards? Just showing my appreciation for our personal tour guide."

"Freaking me out, more like," Arthur muttered. Lovino laughed at him.

"Ve, though, let's keep walking around. It's so nice that you can hug Arthur in public, Lovi!"

Dammit. He should have guessed a comment like that would make him feel self-conscious. "_Chigi!_ Let's just look around, all right?" He stomped off and left the others grinning behind him.

…

Over dinner that night, Ludwig asked about Lovino's race car firm. "I don't know much about it; Feliciano has merely told me that you own it, and occasionally I'll see something about it on the sports pages. Have you owned it a long time?"

Lovino sighed, but explained about the firm.

"I wouldn't think you'd get a lot of business," the German considered. "Someone buys a car of that type, they're probably not going to need another one anytime soon."

"I find that once a driver has raced one of our cars, he…can't go back to something else. It works out all right."

Ludwig nodded. "It's fortunate for you."

"Nothing to do with fortune. We have skilled workers and we do a very good job."

"Even so," the German said. "I believe there must be a portion of luck involved."

Why wasn't Arthur helping him out? Dammit, he always helped when the potato bastard started talking. He looked over, and his friend merely smirked. Oh, that bastard was going to pay for this later. "Maybe." What the fuck. Lovino ate his meal in a grumpy silence.

"Ve, well, we'll have to leave tomorrow night, in order to get back in time. Are we planning anything for tomorrow?"

"Whatever you like, as far as I'm concerned," Arthur replied. "Lovino?"

"Nh. Whatever."

"Forgive him; he hasn't been sleeping well." Arthur said this in a totally normal tone of voice – Lovino knew that – but he still felt like an idiot, and he could tell he was blushing all the way up to the tops of his ears. He didn't look up from the plate.

"That's all right, ve. I know that when vacations start to wind down it gets a little harder to focus on the vacation. I always end up thinking about what needs to be done at home, and things."

"You and I should take a nice long vacation," Ludwig said to Feli.

"Ve! What a nice idea. We can talk about it on the drive back."

"Have you ever traveled outside Europe?" Arthur then asked. "I mean, I know you've been to Washington, but have you been to the Orient, or Africa? South America?"

"Now there is an idea, Feliciano. Perhaps we should go visit Japan. I've always heard such interesting things about their culture, and of course it would be nice to make some new friends."

"Ve, I don't mind that a bit! Japan sounds like a lot of fun. But to answer your question, Arthur, no; I have only been to America once before we came to see you last year, when I went to Los Angeles for a conference a few years ago. That was a crazy trip, ve. Los Angeles is a very busy place."

"It is indeed rather crazy," the German agreed. "I was there at a conference too – I – ah – " He blushed and looked down at Feliciano.

"Oh, ve, wouldn't it be funny if it was the same conference! Too bad we didn't meet each other back then. We could have had so much more time together."

"At least you found each other now, though," Arthur said. "So you can make up for the lost time."

"That's exactly right, Arthur. A very optimistic way of looking at things, ve."

Lovino finally looked up from his plate, at Arthur, who smiled sweetly at him, raising his eyebrows. Feli was right. It was a fucking optimistic way of looking at things.

…

When they got back to the hotel room Lovino collapsed on the bed. "What a day, dammit."

"I know you were really tired." Arthur lay next to him, smoothing the hair off his face. "You should get some rest tonight. Feli's right; it does get harder to focus on the vacation."

"I'll be all right, bastard. Will you take a bath with me? Just cozy up with me in the warm tub?"

"Sure. That sounds nice and relaxing. You rest; I'll get the bath running."

Lovino blew him a kiss and closed his eyes. He heard the water running and then felt Arthur's hands removing his shoes and socks.

"Wake up, master. Your bath is ready."

"Bastard." But he sat up and they undressed each other in the room before heading in to the bath. "Do we have any bubble bath kind of shit?"

"Shampoo? The little stuff the hotel gives us is nice."

"Yeah, that'll do. What is it, apricots or something?"

"Yes." Arthur uncapped it and poured it under the running water. "We should figure out what kind we like best and get some at home."

"See, you're just as bad," Lovino told him, climbing into the tub. "Talking about all the stuff to do when we get home just makes me more tired."

"Sorry." Arthur got into the water and sat with his back to Lovino, who wrapped his arms around the blond's waist. "I'll stop talking."

"Just let me hold you and relax, all right? Let me wind down?"

"Yes. You do what you need to do." Arthur lifted a wet hand and kissed it. "I'll be right here."

"Counting on it, idiot."

…

The next day they showed their friends around more of London, and Lovino was in a much better mood after his good night's sleep. He'd awakened a few times to find Arthur snuggled up against him, which always reminded him of that Christmas morning in his house in Rome. Ah, Lovino was in a great mood, and more than made up for the previous day's inattention.

As Ludwig and Feliciano loaded their small overnight bags into the Ferrari's trunk, he grinned. "Thanks again, idiot." He pulled his old friend into a hug, and Feli pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"Have fun for the rest of the trip," he laughed, patting Lovino on the back. When Ludwig extended a hand towards Lovino, he looked the German right in the eye and shook his hand firmly. What the hell. Feli loved the bastard, and he, Lovino, would be pretty pissed off if Feli was a dick to Arthur, so…he'd stop being a dick to Ludwig. It was as simple as that. He knew he and the German would never be friendly together, but at least he could be a little less prickly around him.

Feli didn't see this, but Arthur did, and winked at him. Bastard. Now he'd never hear the end of it.

"Take care," Arthur said, as the two climbed into the car. "Let us know you got back safely, all right?"

"Ve, all right, Arthur! I'll call Lovi on his cell phone. Have fun on the cruise!" He shut the door and started the engine. Both Lovino and Arthur waved after the car as it drove off in the fading light.

"My brave boy," Arthur laughed. "I'm so proud of you."

"Shut the fuck up." Lovino punched him on the shoulder. "Come on; let's go back to the hotel room. I need to get some shit done, and then – then you're going to pay for all this sarcasm."

"What? Me?" Arthur tried to put on an affronted expression, but he burst out laughing. "Oh, whatever. If it makes you happy, you can do whatever you want."

"I'll think of something. Come on."

…

_It's not just hard for them! It's hard for me! It was really tough to write this chapter, because I want to write so much about their return to DC. Well, the next chapter will be about the cruise, and then they'll be back home, unless something stupid like the Titanic happens to them. _

_(It won't. I promise.)_


	99. Titanic

**Titanic.** (Advertisement, poster, 1912)

"Blimey!" Arthur stopped on the dock and visibly gaped at the enormous cruise ship.

Lovino laughed at him. "It's so funny when you get all British on me. I don't think I've ever heard you say 'blimey' before. Come on, stop rubbernecking and let's get on board."

"Yes, _sir,_" his friend breathed, still in awe. This wasn't a ship! This was a floating city! Just from where he stood, he could see a waterpark – something that looked like a tall chrome-and-glass climbing structure – _trees?_ Growing on a ship? Lovino gave him a little push and he stumbled along, still staring up at it. Well, maybe he was rubbernecking, but this thing demanded it.

All the way through the boarding process and into their stateroom Arthur spoke little, gawking at the amenities. When they reached their balcony suite – which was nicer than some of the hotel rooms they'd had on this trip – he finally seemed to jerk out of his daze. "No wonder this cost so much."

"Cheh, this isn't much. You want to spend a lot? Next time we'll get one of the master suites. Some of them have more square footage than our townhouse."

At the words "our townhouse," Arthur completely forgot about the awe-inspiring ship and smiled at Lovino. "I've seen so many new things since we've met. So many things I would never have seen otherwise." He dropped the suitcase and picked Lovino up in a big bear hug, trying to spin him around the little room. "Thank you so much."

His friend laughed and ruffled his hair. "No problem, bastard. You know you've done a lot for me, too." They shared a quick kiss. Arthur set him down and they began unpacking and settling in. "I know you're going to want to see everything on this ship, right? So when we're done unpacking, let's go wander around a little, find the lay of the land, and whatever."

"Okay. I'm a little hungry, too."

"There's a ton of places to eat around here. What are you in the mood for? I bet no matter how bizarre it is, they'll have it."

"Fish and chips," Arthur said decisively.

Lovino looked at him in shock. "Are you nuts? You've been eating fish and chips nonstop, ever since we got to England!"

"I can't help it. I miss eating it. Haven't found a place in Washington that does a decent fish and chips, so I'm trying to get my fill."

"Poor bastard. We'll make that a mission when we get back. But," Lovino sighed, "if you really want fish and chips now, we can go scope out the restaurants. All right?"

"Yes. And – and I want to look at that water park! And the other things!"

"Calm down, will you? We can look at everything you like. I suppose you're going to want to sit and paint for a while, at some point?"

"Ah," Arthur said, sighing. "I hadn't even thought of that, but…yes. Please. Out on the little balcony, painting the sunset tonight. I want to do that. I'm almost at the end of the current memory book, so that will be a nice way to end it."

"Or you could wait and paint the final sunset over New York," Lovino suggested. "Since that will be more of a real end to the trip."

"You're so smart."

"And you're so damn supercilious. Come on, dump the fucking suitcase and let's go find your stupid fish and chips."

With a smile, Arthur hastened to comply.

…

During the seven-day crossing Arthur had ample time to both paint and explore. He'd never even thought about cruise ships much, and so he hadn't realized quite how ornate and overdone they were.

"You know what would be interesting?" he said one night, as Lovino worked on something on the laptop and he watched a movie quietly, lounging on the bed in yet another pair of silk pajama pants.

"Hm?" Lovino responded, without looking up.

"Living on board a ship like this, all the time."

This time his friend did look up. "Don't you think you'd get bored eventually?"

"Maybe. I guess it depends where it sailed. If I could get off and stay in London for a while, and then come back on board, maybe not so boring. I'm liking the water travel a lot. The view is nothing special, but on the other hand, it's really special for just that reason. Just the mysterious and endless sea."

"Artistic bastard. I wouldn't want to live on a cruise ship. I do like boats, though. Smaller ones. We used to have a little yacht for summer excursions."

"Really? Do you know how to sail one? That would be fun."

"No idea. Stupid stepfather hired a crew to do it all, and when I actually wanted to learn, he said that was for the servants to handle."

"No wonder you're such a pissed-off wanker all the time."

"Shut the fuck up."

Arthur laughed at him. "Oh, you know what I meant. Hey, I've been wondering about something else, too."

"What now?"

"I've been thinking about our – our daily lives, or whatever, once we get back. You have your work" – he gestured to the laptop – "but other than your, er, home administration, or whatever you want to call it, I don't really have anything to do. So I've been thinking about things I might like to start doing when we get back."

"Not looking for a job, I hope." Lovino looked a bit panicky.

"No, no. I'm thinking of taking a class in Italian," he confessed, and the brunet's gaze softened.

"Arthur, you are so sweet to me, sometimes it makes me sick."

Arthur laughed. "Not doing it for you, wanker. I want to learn it so I don't feel so intimidated when we go back."

"Well, if you want to do something like that, it's fine. Or whatever." He turned back to his laptop and typed a few things.

"I – I think it would be good for us to spend some time apart."

Lovino's head jerked up. "Wh-what?" Now he definitely sounded panicked.

"Oh," Arthur realized. "No. I didn't mean like a – a separation. Don't worry. I'm not leaving you. No, I meant having things to do during the day where we're not together a hundred percent of the time. Too much togetherness might drive me nuts, and I have a feeling it really _would_ drive you nuts."

"You have a point. So, you might take Italian classes. What else? Did you think of anything else?"

"No. The house hunt problem has begun to loom again."

"Oh. Yeah, well, we'll figure something out. If – if you really wanted to live on a cruise ship, bastard, I – I guess we could do that."

Arthur hopped off the bed and came over to embrace him from behind. "Who would ever have guessed you could make sacrifices like that?"

"Shut up."

The blond kissed his hair softly. "I told you before. Wherever you are, that's home to me. You choose. I'll follow."

Lovino reached his hands up behind him to stroke Arthur's arms. "I really don't deserve you."

"I know, but you're stuck with me now."

At that, Lovino pinched him and they started laughing together. "The hell with this," Lovino snapped, shutting the laptop. "Come out on the balcony with me."

"My pleasure," Arthur told him, kissing his hand.

…


	100. Design for a Chimney Piece

**Design for a Chimney-Piece.** (Hans Holbein the Younger, pen and black ink on paper, 1540)

Lovino was so tired, and so relieved to be coming back home. He felt so full of memories, and full of peace, but he was exhausted. The cab they'd hired from New York had just left the docks. Soon he could relax at home. Arthur looked a little bit more chipper, but not much.

"Do you want to sleep? I don't mind. You look really tired." Arthur put up a hand to caress his cheek; Lovino turned his face and kissed the palm of his hand. "You don't have to stay awake the entire time."

"Mm," Lovino finally managed. "I'm beat."

"Just rest. We'll get home safely." Arthur turned his attention to the cab driver; Lovino, fighting sentimental tears, sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head against the window.

…

"Wake up; we're home."

Lovino forced himself awake. Arthur was halfway out of the cab. "Why don't you just go on in," the blond suggested. "I'll take care of all this."

He nodded and stumbled up the front steps; he heard Arthur talking to the cab driver as the two of them unloaded suitcases.

Lovino unlocked the door and stepped forward to hang up his coat. He felt a rush of relief at being back in his own home. Ah, he'd rest on the parlor sofa while he waited for his friend. Lovino switched on the lights, turning to sit, but his attention was caught by the bright splash of color over the fireplace. This was new. Arthur must have hung this painting just before they left. Oh. This might be his other Christmas present?

In his current tired, emotional state, one glance at the painting was all it took for Lovino to melt into soundless tears, hands hanging loosely at his sides, staring at it in wonder and disbelief. Dimly he heard Arthur come into the house and drop the suitcases in the hall.

His friend's footsteps echoed behind him. "Do you like it?" he asked, coming closer.

Not trusting himself to speak, Lovino nodded fiercely. Arthur took his hand; he squeezed it, but then pulled the blond into a tight hug. "I hope this means you'll never leave me_._"

"You know I never could." Arthur kissed the tears from his eyes and held him close.

Over his shoulder, Lovino looked again at the dramatic watercolor. On the left side of this new one Arthur had hung the dark bird painting, and on the right, the bird in the springtime tree, but this new one, larger, more vivid, showed the sunlit tree in full leaf, surrounded by joyous masses of brightly-colored wildflowers, with two glossy birds building their nest together.

…


	101. Louis XIV

**Louis XIV. **(Hyacinthe Rigaude, oil on canvas, 1701)

"Cor," Arthur said in amazement one morning, about a week after they'd come home. He was standing on the bathroom scale.

"Hah," Lovino tried to say, while brushing his teeth. "Gain some weight, did you?" He spat and rinsed.

"_Some_ weight? A lot of weight. Nearly twenty pounds! Bloody hell, I need to start working out. I don't want to look like some fat bloke next to you."

"I haven't dared weigh myself yet," Lovino admitted. "Get off the scale, chubby, and let me face facts. I can tell I gained a little, because some of my jeans are too tight."

Arthur got off the scale and watched as Lovino stood on it. Then as Lovino got down. Then once again on and off. "What's the matter?"

"This scale is broken," he muttered, and Arthur started laughing and poked him in the belly.

"Chubby yourself. Maybe we should join a gym."

Lovino hopped on and off the scale again with no apparent satisfaction. "That's actually not a bad idea. We're not getting any younger, you know."

Arthur went out into the bedroom to rummage around for a shirt. "I really don't mind. I hate running, so if we found a place that had other things, I'd be happy to go, especially swimming. We have plenty of free time for working out."

"I do like to run. I mean, I like it better than weightlifting and shit like that." Lovino, already dressed, followed him out of the bathroom. "Let's look into it."

"Sure. I can do that later. Plus our shipments from England should be here today, so we'll have plenty to do."

"All right. I've got to get cracking on my investments. I'll leave that other stuff all up to you."

Arthur nodded and they went downstairs to have breakfast.

…

It didn't take long to find a suitable gym. Within walking distance, it had a pool, it had weight rooms and cardio rooms on the lower level, surrounding the pool, and the second story had a running track balcony that overlooked the water. Both of them were quite pleased with it.

"We should work out every morning," Lovino decided. "Unless you think that's too much."

"I'm willing to start out that way. Twenty bloody pounds. Good thing we're not going to live on the sodding cruise ship. Soon it would be a hundred."

Lovino sputtered with laughter. "Dammit, you'd look ridiculous a hundred pounds heavier."

"I know! And you'd never touch me. Shut it, will you? Do you need to buy any workout gear?"

"Not if I'm just going to run. I have good running shoes. What about you?"

"I'll start with swimming. I have trunks and goggles."

"Fine. Let's start tomorrow."

…

Lovino stretched before beginning his first run. The balcony track was a quarter-mile around; he and Arthur had agreed to each work out for an hour before meeting in the locker room. He hoped he could last for a full hour's run! Well, standing around worrying wasn't going to help. He ran.

As he rounded the first curve of the track he looked down to see Arthur slipping into the pool; the blond looked up and waved at him, and Lovino waved back. Ah, he was really glad they were doing this. Yes, it was quite possible (in fact it was probably likely) that once they got back into their normal routine, most of the excess weight would drop off, but he didn't want to rely on that. It was always better to be fit.

Soon he found himself in a comfortable zone, maintaining his running speed while allowing his mind to drift. He liked this track. Treadmills sucked.

Lovino thought back over their long vacation, which had originally been a plan to find a new place to live. He now realized that somewhere in the middle of that trip, he'd pretty much given up on Europe as a possible new home. He liked the United States. He liked it a lot just for itself, for its culture and the rich amount of things to do, but also for its memories. Memories of when he'd started his new life, and now of course memories of Arthur. He wanted to stay here, not move to Europe. Oh, maybe move to some other big city (but not too big, not like fucking New York) but stay in America. He'd talk to Arthur about that later today.

The brunet ran on, thoughts wandering.

…

After waving at his friend, Arthur began swimming. He felt like such a porker! He'd never belonged to a gym before, but he'd never really had a problem with his weight. As he swam he wondered whether he should start lifting weights. It didn't interest him, but it might be a sensible health maneuver. He tried to picture himself all bulked up from weightlifting, which made him snort a little water. He swam on.

Swimming, like running, was not a mentally demanding activity, and Arthur let his mind float around while he worked out. How could they have stayed in so many hotels and never explored a single hotel pool? Of course he knew Lovino was edgy about appearing in public without a shirt, but that still didn't explain it. Eh. It simply hadn't occurred to Arthur.

Later, about halfway through the workout, he tried to focus on the idea of the new home search. While it was true that Arthur would live wherever Lovino wanted, he also now hoped they'd stay in America and live in a city. His dreams of a country residence had gotten more and more remote as they'd visited the larger cities of Europe. He wanted the vibrancy of a city. Washington would be fine, he supposed, although maybe there was some other place Lovino liked better? But he didn't think so; if there was, his friend would have chosen to live there.

Arthur hoped Lovino was enjoying his run, or at least not hating it. He finished a few sets of sprints and checked the pace clock; the hour was up, so he climbed out of the water, grabbed his towel, and headed for the locker room.

Lovino was combing wet fingers through his hair. "Hey, soggy bastard, were you planning to shower here, or at home?"

Arthur fought to keep a smirk off his face, but he could tell his friend had seen it. Well, that was a bit of a dilemma. Showering here might be awkward. And they certainly wouldn't want to fool around in a public locker room! On the other hand, waiting until they got home seemed a bit disgusting, especially to the wet, chloriney Arthur. "Pros and cons to both," he said. "You decide."

No one was standing near them. Lovino stepped slightly closer to whisper, "Shower here. Play later."

Arthur's smirk changed to a wide grin and he nodded. "Sounds good to me."

…

Later, in the bed, they discussed city versus country, and each was quite happy with the conclusions the other had reached. "Made for each other," Arthur smiled, kissing him.

"On another topic, we might want to save our workouts for later in the day."

"What? Why? It's so nice and empty there in the morning. If we go later, people will be going over lunch hour, or after work, and it will be crowded." Arthur sat up.

"Yes, bastard, but here it is noon and I feel like having a nap! Dammit, if I take a nap now, I'll be up until two."

"So? It's not like we have some kind of formal schedule."

"Still. You know how tired I get after fooling around."

"Are you implying that every time we work out we're going to come home and make love? Right away?" Arthur ran his hands over his friend's soft, clean, naked body. "Not that I dislike that idea, but it is rather impractical."

"Talk to me about it later, bastard," Lovino moaned, pulling him closer.

…

_This painting of Louis XIV makes him look like a fat guy trying to appear trim. _

_Sex burns calories, too, boys, but… not that much._


	102. The Lovers

**The Lovers.** (Pierre-Auguste Renoir, oil on canvas, 1875)

Arthur was off at his new Italian class; Lovino had gone to the gourmet store for some groceries. He and Arthur had both lost all their vacation weight after just three weeks of workouts, so he wanted to indulge himself by cooking a fancy meal tonight. After getting the obligatory scones, he headed to the produce section.

"Well, hello, Lovino," he heard a sultry voice say. Dammit. He knew that voice very well, though it had been a few years since he'd heard it. Lovino turned slowly in place to face his old lover.

"Natalia," he acknowledged. They'd dated when he'd first moved to Washington, but she'd been too blatant in her regard for his checkbook. She was a hot lover, though, wild and demanding. He smiled slightly as he gazed at her trim figure, remembering some of their nights together. She looked noticeably older, which surprised him. Her once-blond hair, long and straight, had visible grays in it here and there. Oh, not much - she still was obviously a young woman - but something had definitely taken its toll on her since they'd last met. "Snag yourself a rich bastard yet?" he asked, just to let her know he wasn't going to fall for anything.

"As a matter of fact, I did," she purred, smiling maliciously. "He's dead now, and I'm fighting the estate for the money." She ran a manicured fingertip up and down his arm; amused, he allowed this, mentally starting a countdown as he waited for the inevitable.

And she delivered, right on cue. "Won't you please help me win the lawsuit?" She moved closer to him. "In memory of what we shared?"

He laughed. "What's in it for me?"

"Half the estate?" She fluttered her eyelashes and he snorted. He almost told her he didn't need it - which was true, his portfolio was at least double what it had been when he'd dated her - and then realized that comment might open a whole new can of worms.

"Not interested," he said, still trying to smile pleasantly. He was looking forward to sharing this encounter with Arthur later. Lovino stepped back.

"You're not the man you used to be, Lovino." She narrowed her eyes at him, hands defiantly on her slim hips, all flirting forgotten.

But he burst into laughter. "Honey, you have _no idea_." He kept laughing as he walked away without his fresh produce - he'd go somewhere else for that. "Good luck with your lawsuit!"

At the end of the aisle he turned back to look, and Natalia was examining the onions. That was reassuring. If she'd been staring after him, with that feral grin of hers, he'd be worried, but she clearly hadn't intended to pressure him. He breathed a sigh of relief and went through the checkout.

…

_I have plans __for Natalia. My first real time writing her; I hope it's all right._

_Thank you to everyone who is still reading and enjoying!_


	103. Girl with a Black Cat

_Over 40,000 hits! Let's celebrate with a party._

…

**Girl with a Black Cat.** (Henri Matisse, oil on canvas, 1910)

Arthur was organizing the household bills for Lovino's signature at the kitchen table. (He didn't trust online banking; Arthur didn't blame him.) Lovino began to prepare the fancy meal he'd shopped for. "Dammit!" he suddenly yelled, throwing the spatula in the sink and running out of the room.

"What's the matter?" Arthur called out, but didn't get an answer. Hm. Well, obviously he had a lot on his mind. After hearing how Lovino had encountered his ex-lover in the grocery store this morning, Arthur had felt just a little twinge of jealousy, which had quickly (logically) dissipated. He wasn't worried about that sort of thing anymore. But he did wonder what was bothering his friend now.

And then Arthur realized what date it was. He smiled. He'd nearly forgotten, too.

He kept his eyes on the doorway until Lovino came back in several minutes later, fidgeting and staring at the stove as he crossed the room. Arthur began to smirk, but Lovino didn't see this.

"So, uh, bastard, do you, uh, you want to do something tonight?" His tone, as he stood with his back to his friend, was so adorably fake that Arthur almost burst out laughing, but he managed to hold it in. He wanted to see just how Lovino planned to handle this.

"I don't mind," he replied equably. "What would you like to do?"

He watched Lovino's shoulders relax. "Maybe we could find a club or something. We – we have a kind of boring night life, you know? It'd be fun to go out to a club once in a while."

Arthur was still fighting a smirk, but he answered calmly. "Do you know of any? When we were in London I was thinking we should tog up in our new gear and go to a club sometime. Want to do that?"

Lovino dropped the spatula again and turned around with his eyes wide. "You're _brilliant_. Yes. Let's do that." He got a wicked grin. "I am very much looking forward to being in public with you, dressed like that." The sizzle in the pan caught his attention and he turned back to finish cooking.

"I'm glad we managed to lose some weight. Nothing worse than a pudgy punk."

The brunet snorted. "Don't even put that image in my head, bastard. Will you set the table?"

Arthur put the bills away and complied. He was now quite interested to see how the rest of the evening would turn out, and how long it would take Lovino to work up his nerve to say the actual words "Happy Birthday" to him.

…

This was a bloody good club, Arthur had to admit. It was reasonably packed for a Monday, and not too fancy. He and Lovino fit right in. Other patrons checked them out, some looking nervous, some intrigued.

Even though they were in the quieter bar area, they could hear the music from the concert room next door thumping through the floor. Lovino, looking and acting badass in his punk gear, swaggered over to the bar to get them some drinks. Men and women gave him interested smiles as he passed; Arthur kept his eyes on that delicious arse, remembering their nights in London, making plans for later tonight.

Gilbert suddenly appeared in front of him. "Hey! Happy birthday." He planted a kiss on Arthur's forehead. "You look awesome. A spiked collar? Artie, that's so hardcore! How old are you now?"

"Hey yourself! What are you doing here? Is this one of your regular haunts? It's great to see you." They'd spoken on the phone recently, but hadn't seen each other since Paris. Gilbert looked a little spooky, dressed all in white.

But the albino didn't answer him yet. "_How_ _old are you_~?"

"Thirty, all right? Now, what the hell are you doing here? Got a date?" Then the question registered. "How the bloody hell did _you_ know it was my birthday?"

"Kesesese! Lovino called this afternoon. He asked me to round up some people and meet you here. It's a spontaneous surprise party? How totally awesome."

But Arthur, knowing Gilbert, now had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "'Some people'? Just which people did you round up for tonight?"

"Ha, well, let's see…some of the guys from the office that you know, that we play soccer with, and I called Feliks, because he does like clubs, and Alf– Oops."

"Yeah, _oops._ I knew it! Gilbert, I honestly don't know how you can be such a bloody dope sometimes." Arthur flicked him in the forehead, grimacing; just then, Lovino came back with the drinks.

"Bastard," he said to Gilbert.

"This was a great idea, Lovino. I didn't realize Birthday Boy was so old!"

"Shut it, wanker." Arthur took his drink and drank.

"You look pretty hot, too," Gilbert then told the brunet, elbowing him. "This how you always dress after hours? You two could start riots. Good thing you weren't dressed like this in Paris, kesesese; that bar fight would have been a lot worse!"

"We know," Lovino smirked, drinking. Then he turned to Arthur and quietly said, "Happy birthday, bastard," before squeezing his hand.

"Er, thanks," Arthur laughed. "And that delicious dinner wasn't even meant for a birthday dinner, was it?"

Lovino turned red and looked down at the floor. "Dammit. Was it that transparent?"

"Yes, but the way you panicked was funny. Thanks." Arthur hugged him briefly around the waist, feeling his friend relax a little.

The three of them chatted idly for a while until Feliks arrived, dressed as himself in dark casual clothes with a gold sparkly barrette holding his hair back. "Like, happy birthday, Arthur!" They hugged each other and Feliks pecked a little kiss on his cheek. "You look totally intimidating! If I didn't know you I'd be, like, sitting in the corner drooling. Frightened, but totally drooling! I could, like, _never_ carry off a look like that."

"Yeah, but then, I'd look a right berk in drag," Arthur countered with a grin.

Feliks laughed in acknowledgement and turned to Lovino. "And you too! You guys are, like, the best. So manly and rough." He sighed and batted his eyelashes at them before turning to the albino and losing his flirty demeanor. "Hi, Gilbert."

"Hey," Gilbert replied. He seemed all right with Feliks around. Arthur was relieved to see that.

"Would you like a drink?" Lovino asked Feliks.

"Ooh, yes, please. I'm totally indulging tonight since it's a party. I'll have, like, a vodka tonic."

"Right. Be right back; anybody else need anything?"

Nobody else needed anything. Lovino sloped off to the bar. Arthur chatted with Gilbert and Feliks about nothing in particular for a while.

When several minutes passed without Lovino's return, Arthur scanned the room to find him. Feliks and Gilbert moved into conversation with two of Gilbert's mates from work. No sign of bloody Alfred yet, thank goodness. Hopefully the wanker wouldn't show.

Oh. A blonde woman was flirting with Lovino. Arthur couldn't see much; her back was to him. She was bloody attractive from this angle, though, with long, straight hair and a slim, boyish figure dressed in a tight black mini-dress. Heh, Arthur knew his boyfriend was hot enough to attract men and women alike. Then, because of Feliks, he wondered if it was actually a guy in drag. Hah.

Lovino looked irritated. Maybe he needed a rescue. But just as Arthur started walking in that direction, the brunet smiled politely at the woman and moved past her.

He rolled his eyes at Arthur when he got back. "Sorry it took so long. Here's your drink." He handed Feliks the vodka tonic.

"Like, thanks, Lovino." Feliks took a tiny sip. "Mm, delish. Have to totally make this one last a while." He turned back to Gilbert and the others.

"Lady bothering you?" Arthur asked his friend quietly. "Or just a girl who wants your hot body?" He elbowed Lovino.

"That's the one I told you about. Natalia. Must just be bad luck that she showed up here tonight." Lovino drank. "Though what the fuck would I know; my nightlife hasn't been too interesting. Maybe she's here every night. But there's nothing for you to worry about, bastard."

"I'm glad. I'd hate to have to beat up a woman to win you back."

Lovino snorted. "Idiot."

But Arthur was now worrying about something different. "You know, if you really think our nightlife together is boring, we should do something about that."

"Oh, I guess I'm just a little crabby. It's not a huge deal, but – but yeah; once in a while it'd be nice to get out after dark."

"That's fine with me! You should have said something."

"Whatever, bastard." He drank.

Arthur scanned the crowded room for the intrusive woman. "What did she want, anyway? Do you think she's stalking you?"

"Hard to imagine how she would have tracked me here. It was Gilbert's choice of club. Anyway, she wants the same thing as before. Somebody to get her in with a fancy lawyer, so she can win this fucking lawsuit. She knows I'm connected."

"Want to show her just how off-limits you are?" Arthur flicked his tongue around as if he was showing off a tongue piercing, and Lovino growled, pinching his arm.

"Stop that. No. Just – just ignore her."

"She, er, she doesn't think you're here stalking _her_, does she?"

"Fuck, I hope not," Lovino spat, just as Alfred eased into the group.

"Artie! Happy birthday, old man."

"Alfred." This was the best Arthur felt he could do. He directed a death glare at Gilbert, who wasn't even paying attention.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lovino barked.

"Gilbert invited me to celebrate Artie's birthday!"

"All your friends are _fucking_ _idiots_," Lovino muttered to his friend. Arthur burst out laughing.

Alfred snapped to attention; apparently he hadn't previously grasped what they were wearing. "Damn, Arthur. You look – you _both _look – " He waved his hands inarticulately.

"Yeah," Lovino sneered, putting his arm around Arthur's waist and drawing him closer. "He looks hot as hell."

"I – I know, right? You – you both do!" Alfred grinned, just before Lovino pressed a deep kiss to Arthur's mouth, smirking with pride. "Uh," the tall blond then whined.

Arthur broke from the kiss, giving Alfred the finger with a nasty grin. "Too slow, too rude, too self-centered. Find yourself some nice dumb farm boy and leave me alone." He wrapped his arms around Lovino's waist and flicked his tongue around again; Lovino began silently laughing.

"Uh." Alfred pouted, whacking him in the arm.

Hearing this, Gilbert turned. "Hey, man," he said, punching Alfred.

But Alfred, still staring at Arthur and Lovino in their embrace, could only repeat "Uh."

Arthur now wondered how weird this must be for Gilbert. On the one hand, his ex-boyfriend Feliks; on the other hand, Alfred, the guy Feliks had allegedly been chasing? This couldn't be comfortable for him, though it didn't seem that Feliks and Alfred were involved with each other at all. Maybe Feliks had come to his senses. Arthur snorted. He decided to ignore Alfred for the moment, letting go of Lovino and poking Gilbert in the arm. "You hear anything from Mathias lately?"

"Oh, yeah. How's the bastard doing?"

"He's all right," Gilbert said, turning to face them and leaving Feliks and Alfred behind him.

"Still thinking of moving to Paris?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I don't know. I'm so established here, you know? But on the other hand it would be awesome to start with a blank slate somewhere. I just "– he dropped his voice – "I'm not sure whether Mathias would be a rebound or not."

"Don't treat him like a boyfriend, bastard. If you want to go, you have to either treat him as an acquaintance, or ignore the whole Mathias factor."

"I know," the albino sighed. "I just can't tell yet. I'm still thinking about it. Did you two ever decide where you're going to live?"

"Yeah, we're staying here. We like it here and we're both fucking tired of Europe after all that travel."

"Now if you'd just stop inviting bloody Alfred to everything, git," Arthur added.

But Alfred had heard his name and forced his way into the group; conversation skidded to a halt.

"Dammit. Want a drink, bastard?"

"Thanks," Arthur said, finishing the rest of his drink and handing Lovino the empty glass. "Same again."

He watched Lovino move to the bar. Alfred, behind him, sighed. "Man, I wish I'd gotten to him before you did, Artie."

Arthur turned back with a scowl. "Someday I'm going to beat the shit out of you, tosser."

"No, you won't. You're too old." Alfred elbowed him with a grin, finishing his drink. "Hey, Feliks, Gil, you guys need another drink?"

"Totally not for me," Feliks said. "But thank you."

"Yeah, bring me an awesome beer."

Alfred too slipped away to the bar, passing Lovino, who was on his way back. Gilbert and Feliks began speaking of the strip club; Arthur listened with half an ear, until a woman's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Your friends won't miss you if you slip away with me for ten minutes, will they?"

"Natalia, _please_," he heard Lovino say wearily. "Don't you have a date here tonight? Or some friends? Tell me you haven't turned into a barfly."

"It's so sweet of you to still be concerned about me."

"_Natalia_," Lovino said dangerously, which Arthur took as a cue for an intervention.

He turned around, reached in between them, and took the drink from Lovino's hand. "Thanks for the drink, mate," he said rudely. He gulped some of it, standing by.

"Don't interrupt," the woman snarled. "We are in the middle of a private discussion." She grabbed Lovino by the arm.

"Let go," he said in a low tone, and she did. "Listen, Natalia, I'm not interested in getting involved in your moneygrubbing schemes." His gaze slid to Arthur, who winked at him; unfortunately, she saw that wink.

She shoved Arthur away. "Get away from him, you punk faggot."

Lovino began to bristle, but Arthur just laughed. "The man wants you to leave him alone, lady. I'd do what he asks. If you know him at all, you know he could make a lot of trouble for you."

"Lovino would never make trouble for me, would he?" She gave the Italian a long, slow smile, seductive, alluring, the tip of her tongue sliding suggestively back and forth between her perfect pearly teeth.

Arthur shivered. That look was very predatory. "Maybe he won't, but I might," he blurted out.

She then turned to fully face Arthur, hands clenched at her sides, and hissed, "Get away from us!"

Lovino drew breath to speak, but before he could say anything, Alfred appeared and grabbed Arthur by the arm. "Artie! Totally not cool to argue with beautiful women. You should let her alone."

"Let go of him, bastard," Lovino growled.

But Alfred was not paying attention to them any longer. His hand dropped from Arthur's arm as he smiled at Natalia. "How do you do?" he offered, extending his hand, deepening his voice. "My name is Alfred F. Jones."

Oh, dear God. Arthur could almost see the "hero rescues damsel in distress" headlines flashing on and off in what passed for Alfred's brain.

And yet, Natalia's entire stance had changed. The belligerence was gone; she tilted her head and gave the American the once-over. "Alfred F. Jones?" she then asked in her sultry voice, raising an eyebrow. "Nice try."

Alfred appeared baffled, for a few seconds, and then grinned. "Oh. No, it really is my name. Matthew has a different last name."

Oh, right. His twin was the gallery bloke. She must know him, too.

Natalia then smiled sweetly at Alfred, both eyebrows now raised. "How do you do? My name is Natalia. Will you buy me a drink?"

Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose. "Gladly!" He turned to the other two with a grin. "Hey, man, happy birthday and all that, but – real life intrudes! Talk to you soon." He and Natalia began walking away; she blew Lovino a kiss. He snarled at her, and she laughed.

"Don't put yourself to any trouble on my account, git!" Arthur yelled, but the American just kept walking and flipped him the bird behind Natalia's back.

"Dammit."

"You're telling me. Come on; let's go make sure Gilbert's all right. I feel funny leaving him alone with Feliks; I'm not sure what's going on with them anymore."

…

The four of them, and the few of Gilbert's office mates that had been able to make it on short notice, stood around bullshitting and trying to spy on Alfred and Natalia at the bar, until the noise level was so high that they were shouting to talk. One by one the office mates and Feliks left; the three remaining friends moved to the corner.

"I probably ought to get going, too," Gilbert admitted. "Tomorrow's a work day for me. Happy birthday, though." He put his empty bottle on a table and hugged Arthur.

"Thanks. I'm glad you were here to celebrate with me. Let's do something quieter soon!"

"Kesesese! All right; I do want to talk to you. Take care, Lovino." They shook hands and Gilbert slipped away.

"Want to head for home, bastard?"

"Sure. You're all right to drive?"

"Yes, nervous punk. All I had was club soda. You're safe with me." He ruffled Arthur's hair and the two of them headed out into the cool April night.

…

Lovino buckled his seat belt. "So, your Alfred –"

"I told you before, don't call him 'my' Alfred." Arthur scowled at that.

"All right, but, what the fuck? I thought he was gay, but he was all over Natalia."

"Maybe he's bi. He never really said. But he probably just thought he was saving a poor innocent girl from my rude punk ways." He snorted.

"She's going to eat that idiot alive." Lovino maneuvered the car into traffic. "Ah, what the fuck, why are we even talking about them?"

"You started it! And it's bloody bizarre. But, whatever. Thanks for the impromptu birthday party."

"I'm sorry. I really did forget until I was in the middle of cooking dinner."

"I realized that. But I forgive you."

"Good. Hey, we need to work out tomorrow," Lovino reminded him.

"I know. _Non vogliamo ottenere grasso!_"

"Arthur!" Lovino turned to look at him and almost crashed the Spitfire. "That was awesome! You learned that much Italian from just a few little classes?"

"Well, no! I've been studying in my spare time, too, and thinking about it while I swim. Did it sound all right?"

"It sounded _splendidamente italiano_."

"Mm. It sounds so much sexier when you speak Italian than when I do."

"Don't worry about it, bastard. You sound fucking adorable."

Arthur blew him a kiss. "Take me home, splendid Italian boy. I want to make love to you like we did last year in Rome."

"All night long? Dammit. Maybe we _won't_ need to go to the gym."

...

_"Non vogliamo ottenere grasso" means "We don't want to get fat!" At least according to the online translator._

_"Splendidamente italiano" means "splendidly Italian."_

_And I'm waffling about Gilbert again. I kind of want to get him back with Feliks, especially because Lovino and Arthur are staying in Washington. Uprooting Gil and having him move to Paris would pretty much remove him from the story, and I don't want that. Opinions, anyone?_

_This Natalia is not related to Ivan, but she is Katia's sister._


	104. The Tortoise Trainer

**The Tortoise Trainer.** (Osman Hamdi Bey, 1907)

"Are you ready to go?" Arthur called out.

"Give me a minute; I'm trying to find my keys."

"I have them here."

Lovino walked over to him and grabbed the keys. "Come on, let's go."

They were planning to drive around Washington and find a condo complex they liked. Then they'd keep an eye on the real estate listings for that building. It seemed like this might be the only way they'd find a new place to live.

Lovino yanked the door open and began to walk outside. "What the fuck?"

Arthur, behind him, peered over his shoulder. "What?"

"That's fucking creepy. Get back in the house." They backed inside and closed the door – Lovino locked it, which made Arthur laugh a little – and then moved to the big front window to look out.

Perhaps twenty turtles were wandering around the area; at least ten of them were on Lovino's lawn, and they seemed to be heading towards the house. "Bastard, this is fucking freaky! I hate turtles."

"You don't have to tell _me._" Arthur shivered a little. He disliked reptiles of all sorts. "Are they turtles or tortoises?"

"How the hell would I know? Turn on the television; maybe there's something on the news, about a migration or something." But a quick browse through the channels left them with nothing.

"Forget it," Lovino then said. "We can go look for condos some other day. Come on, let's go upstairs."

"What? You want to hide from the attack turtles in the back bedroom?" Arthur started laughing at him.

"Shut up. Come on; I'll bring my laptop into your workroom and you can paint something for me. Just – just let's get away from these things."

"All right. I don't mind painting. I hope they don't manage to unlock the door," he laughed.

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_" Lovino ran all the way up to the workroom.

…

"Hey, wake up. Wake up!" Arthur poked his napping friend. It had been a great day so far, if you didn't count the bloody turtles. He had started a new painting, and had been lost in a creative frenzy most of the day, while Lovino had sat in the workroom with his laptop, watching him work, handling his investments and other business things. He was thinking of buying a new company, or something; something local to keep him busier than he'd been recently. But he wasn't sure what, yet. They'd chatted about this, vaguely, while they both worked, throwing out and dismissing suggestions that were boring, too risky, too demanding.

But eventually the brunet had fallen asleep. Arthur hadn't minded – he was very busy with this idea of the painting (of a nervous Lovino with turtles crawling all over him, ha), and almost hadn't noticed. When he had stopped to take a break, he'd gently slipped the laptop off Lovino's lap and onto his own, letting his friend sleep while he did his daily browse of the real estate listings, this time in Virginia.

And he'd struck pay dirt! There was a beautiful, _beautiful_ home for sale out there. A little acreage with a big classy-looking house on the banks of the Potomac, south of Great Falls Park. With an in-ground pool…Arthur spent some intrigued time thinking about all the sexy playtime they could have in a pool, before deciding he had to wake Lovino up. "Come on, wake up, wanker, this is good!"

"Nh." Lovino struggled to awaken. "You let me fall asleep? What the hell?"

"Well, you were tired, I guess. Wake up. I think I found us a house."

"You're kidding. All that angst about finding a place and suddenly the perfect place crops up? Why does this sound suspicious?"

"Git. It's only been on the market three days. Look." He handed Lovino the laptop and watched as his friend's face went from sleepy irritation to an equally intrigued expression, matching his own.

"Bastard, I think maybe you've done it. This looks awesome. Of course, it may be a piece of shit in person; you know how these online marketing things are, but…we can go take a look."

"I want to make love to you in a pool," Arthur blurted out, and then started laughing at himself.

"Later, bastard, later. Do you still have that agent's number? Laurinaitis? Give him a call. Maybe he can get us in today. It's still early."

"What about the turtles?"

"Dammit, I forgot." Then Lovino caught sight of the painting and snorted. "Thanks a lot, bastard. I'll get you for that. Well, let's go downstairs and look."

They scampered downstairs, eager to go view the property, and discovered that all the turtles had moved on. "That was very strange."

"Whatever. Call the bastard, will you?"

"Calm down. I will."

…

The long driveway to the home was lined with old, graceful oak trees, although some of them looked sick, not fully in leaf. "This looks like something out of a movie set," Arthur mused, driving the Jaguar. The area was dark and hushed, other than the sound of the engine, as they approached the house that had intrigued them so much.

Laurinaitis was waiting for them on the porch with a big black dog. "I love porches," Arthur said happily as they got out of the car. "I would love to come out here and paint on the porch!" He turned to check the view; the front of the home faced the graceful lawn; presumably the back overlooked the river.

"Shut up," Lovino hissed. "Don't act too excited. Let me do all the talking, unless you have a specific question about the property."

"Yes, Mister Businessman." Arthur was happy that Mr. Laurinaitis was standing there, because Lovino refrained from punching him.

They went up the steps and greeted the real estate agent. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Boris with me," he smiled, petting his dog (Arthur and Lovino did likewise).

"He's beautiful. Er – he doesn't go into the house, does he?" Arthur asked. That would be a bit disturbing, people taking random dogs through a house for sale.

"No, I'll leave him outside. It's a nice day for it. I'm quite surprised," he went on, tying the leash to the porch railing, "that you're interested in such a country estate. After your interest in the townhouse I had the impression that you were interested in a city location."

"We're flexible," Lovino said dismissively. "And this isn't really that remote. Seven miles? Not bad at all."

Inside the home Arthur lost his breath. This was the first home they'd seen whose online pictures actually mirrored the reality of the home. So many of them appeared big and bright in the photographs and were in reality cramped and dark; this one looked just as good as it had on the internet. Arthur took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't be let down as they wandered through it.

And he wasn't. He dutifully kept his mouth shut, except to ask a few things about the age of the house, the apparent remodels here and there. The home sat on a reasonable plot of land, so the view contained mainly lawn, trees, and the river. (A neighboring house was visible, just barely.) This house had four bedrooms, and Arthur immediately picked the one he wanted for a workroom. It had a little balcony! How nice it would be to paint out on the balcony, overlooking their property, watching the river as it meandered past.

As they wandered, he really did begin to feel this might be their dream home. The river might help Lovino feel peaceful, as he'd mentioned at Great Falls that day. The house was modernized and yet retained a classic, traditional feel. Yes. If there weren't any – er – well, structural problems, he supposed, not being really conversant with the process of buying a house, he'd definitely argue for this one. But of course Lovino would have to make the final decision. Arthur could live and paint anywhere.

It took the three men almost an hour to make the circuit of the house's interior. Lovino too had seemed somewhat dreamy and remote as they'd walked. Laurinaitis then took them outside to walk the grounds, letting the placid Boris off his leash; the big dog merely ambled along with them, sometimes coming back to allow Arthur or Lovino to pet him.

Lovino peeked at Arthur; he smiled brightly in return and gave two thumbs up. His friend let out a little laugh at that and took his hand. Arthur squeezed back and they walked on.

"Beautiful," he whispered in Lovino's ear at one point, when Laurinaitis was out of earshot. "Did you see the _sauna_?"

"Yes, bastard, I saw the fucking sauna. Let me guess. You want to make love to me in a sauna now," was the sarcastic, hissed response.

"I hadn't thought of it, but that's a really good idea!"

Lovino snorted. "Sex-crazed idiot."

"Never mind that. Do you like the house?"

"Shit, yes, but it worries me. I mean, it needs cosmetic work, which I can see, but there might be something else wrong with it that we can't see yet."

Laurinaitis turned back to them, so they were unable to continue speaking. They walked to the in-ground pool; both Arthur and Lovino started blushing, and Lovino pulled his hand away.

"Nice pool," Arthur said noncommittally.

Laurinaitis agreed. "It was only installed last year. According to the listing agent's remarks, there were plans to enclose it in a glass building with sliding doors and windows, but the owner changed his mind. The blueprints are still available, though, if that might be something you were interested in adding on."

Lovino was staring at the pool, lost in thought. "Let's go through it again," he then decided. "Uh – unless you have somewhere else you need to be?" he asked the agent.

"No, I'm free the rest of the day. Do you want to walk around the grounds again?"

"Yes. Let's do a whole circuit and then go back inside." They moved off. This time Laurinaitis and his dog stayed far enough ahead of them that Arthur and Lovino could discuss it in murmured whispers.

"Wh-what do you think?" Arthur asked, somewhat hesitantly. He still hadn't seen anything he'd disliked.

"I'm still worried. I mean, I'm definitely interested, but I don't like to make instant yes decisions. I really don't."

"Maybe it's – a sign?" Arthur grimaced as he said that; he knew it sounded corny.

"Bastard, do not tell me you're into all that mystic shit."

"No. Sorry, I knew that sounded stupid as soon as I said it. But I really like it too. I don't see anything wrong except the ugly dining room wallpaper." He paused. "Remember I don't know much about real estate transactions, but – is there a way we can, I don't know, put a – a _hold_ on it, so nobody else buys it while we're thinking about it?"

"Cheh, yes. It's called earnest money. You make a smallish deposit – here it might be two hundred grand – and get a couple days to think. Then if you walk, you lose the money; if not, the deposit comes out of the total purchase price." Lovino too paused for a moment. "I'm going to ask Laurinaitis to find out more about it for us, though, before I put the earnest money down. Why they're selling, how long the current owners have had it, that kind of thing. All right?"

"More information is always good," Arthur agreed.

"Can you do me a favor while I talk to him? While we're going through the house, I want you do to stuff like run water, flush toilets, check lights to make sure they switch on and off. Make sure doors close properly and aren't warped. I'll do some of it, too, but if I have to be talking to him I won't have a chance to do all that. Run the showers and tubs. Walk around and listen for creaky floors; look for water damage?"

"Got it, chief. Bollocks, I'm really starting to feel like the dumb muscle in this relationship." Arthur snorted and Lovino punched him in the arm. "Ow! Even finding this nice house won't make you stop punching me?"

"Not if you keep acting like an idiot. Now, come on." They hurried to meet the agent, who had already reached the porch and hooked Boris to his leash again.

…

"Well, that was fun," Arthur laughed, navigating the beautiful convertible back down the driveway.

"Yes, it was. I'll need you to start doing some real work about this."

"Wh-what kind of work? Packing?"

"Cheh, no. We'll get professional movers to handle that, but we don't have to worry about that yet. What we need to do is schedule an engineering inspection and things like that. Laurinaitis will be able to handle most of it – in fact, he _should_; it's part of the agent's job – but he'll need to coordinate meetings with us, and all that, and that's what I want you to handle. All right? Just make sure I'm at every meeting of everything."

"Of course. I'm really excited! Can I have that little bedroom with the balcony for my workroom?"

"Sure, bastard, whatever you like. We need to go through it again in a couple of days and make sure we haven't changed our minds, make sure it's not just the rush of finding a new place. Got it? Pick a day, sometime before Friday, and we'll go."

"I'll do it," he laughed, and drove on. A beautiful new home with his dear friend! Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Arthur blessed the day he'd decided to move to America.

…


	105. Man with a Glass of Wine

_The idea of the turtles (or maybe they were tortoises; I'm just as clueless as Lovino) came from an anime episode where Spain's house is overrun with them while he and Romano are watching TV. Not just some random thing I made up. _

…

**Man with a Glass of Wine.** (Amedeo Modigliani, oil on canvas, 1918)

"I don't know if we should have decided on this place," Lovino laughed. "French restaurants are always going to remind me of that bastard at the boutique, now."

"Please don't remind me," Arthur groaned. "Just enjoy the nice dinner and let's talk about the house."

Lovino was busy perusing the wine list. "Hey! They have my wine here!"

"I thought you sold the winery?"

"I did, idiot, but the vintage they have here is from when I owned it. Do you mind if I order it?"

"Feel free. I'd like to taste it. Why'd you sell the place, anyway?"

"I never really liked going to France – hah – and then the vines got blighted. I figured it was time to sell, instead of trying to prune them all back and waste time on rehabilitating them." He shrugged. "I took a loss, but it wasn't bad, and got me out of mandatory trips to France."

"Virginia's pretty well-known for its wines. We should go out there sometime and do a little tour. Let's go out there this weekend! Do some taste-testing, see if you think they're as good as yours. It's not that far away, right?"

"Right, maybe an hour or a little more to get there." Lovino folded up the wine list and set it aside.

"We don't hear about American wines much in England. I wonder why?"

"French wines are, unfortunately, always going to be the most renowned."

The waiter glided over to take their order. When he'd gone, Arthur asked, "But just because they're not as renowned, does that make the Virginia ones less good? I'm no connoisseur, you know. Just wondering."

"I know. But you're right. It's all about marketing."

"Oh."

"The fact that French vineyards were producing – _and_ marketing – long before anybody from Europe even came to America, well, places like Virginia and California are always going to struggle in the public perception. Unless something happens to the French winemaking industry as a whole, something with the climate or whatever." He thought about this. "The funny thing is, a lot of North American wineries are actually growing grapes from vines that were imported from France. So they're technically just as good. The point is, people are always going to perceive American wines as being a lower quality. Upstart wineries."

"America's an upstart country," Arthur snorted.

"Cheh. Good enough for us to live in, though, right?" As Lovino said this, the waiter returned and opened the wine for his testing.

When a small amount had been poured into his glass, the brunet swirled it around, watching it slide down the inside of the glass to check the acidity; he then sniffed it and his mouth split into a grin before tasting it. "Perfect," he told the waiter, who poured the wine and left.

Arthur picked up his own glass and raised it in a toast. "Here's to finding our perfect house." He beamed.

But Lovino began to fidget. They'd gone through the house a second time today, and he wasn't happy with it, but hadn't mentioned this to his friend yet.

"What's the matter?" the blond then asked.

"Uh, well, this is kind of why I wanted to come out to a nice dinner…to soften the blow. I – don't want to buy that house. Not yet, anyway."

Arthur looked taken aback. "Why not?"

"Ah, I don't even know. Too fast of a decision? Too much renovating? I don't really know. It just feels like a wrong decision to me. Laurinaitis told me nobody else has been through it yet, so maybe in a few weeks it'll still be on the market and I might feel better about it, but right now I'm not even willing to commit the earnest money." He glanced apologetically at Arthur. "I'm sorry. I know you liked it a lot."

"I'm a little sorry, too," Arthur confessed. "But I wouldn't want you to make a decision you were uncomfortable with." He started fiddling with his cutlery.

"Thanks." Still a little nervous, Lovino drank some more wine. "Dammit. I'd really forgotten how good this wine was."

"Well, you were talking about wanting a new business. Maybe you should buy another winery."

"Cheh, maybe. Let's just enjoy our dinner." Thinking about Virginia wineries had brought up a memory, though. Lovino decided not to mention it, and then couldn't stop himself; he blurted out "Did I ever tell you about the day you were hired?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Well, he'd said it. Might as well go through with it. "Humor me, all right, bastard? Do you remember that day?"

"Of course I do. I was supposed to meet with – with you, but Ms. Taylor told me you were called away on business, and that you'd asked her to hire me. Although I didn't know it was you, at the time, of course."

"Right." Lovino rubbed his hand over his face. "I, uh, I lost my nerve."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur dropped the fork and looked at his friend with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Dammit, of course I'm all right. I'm trying to tell you something, so just shut up and listen."

"All right."

Lovino then explained why he hadn't felt able to interview Arthur that day. He was blushing the whole time, and he spoke in a quiet, embarrassed murmur, but he did get through it.

"I wonder how our lives would be different now, if you hadn't skipped the interview."

"I've thought about that a lot. Sometimes I think everything would have mostly happened the same way, except I wouldn't have had to come to the diner that night – you know, when we sat outside and talked?"

"I thought you were coming back to ask me for a date," Arthur confessed. "I really hoped that you were."

Lovino shrugged and looked up at him with a shy smile. "In a way, I did, right?"

"In a very good way. But – er – what does all this have to do with anything?"

"Oh. That interview day, I drove out to Middleburg. It's a really nice area, farms and all that, and near where the wineries are; I guess it just linked up in my brain. Yeah, let's go out there this weekend. Maybe I'll be able to clear my head about things."

"Plus indulging in a little wine will be nice." Arthur grinned at him.

"I just hope the weather's good. Nothing worse than driving around in the muck on a country trip."

For the rest of the dinner they discussed various unimportant topics, and by the end of the meal Arthur seemed to be back in his mostly-cheerful mental zone. Lovino secretly breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"Can I ask you a stupid question?" the blond asked.

Lovino smirked at him. "You just did, bastard."

"Shut it. I've always wondered what tiramisu was, but was always afraid to ask."

"Afraid to ask _me_? You shouldn't ever be afraid to ask me anything."

"Even when it's a 'stupid question'?" Arthur laughed.

"Yes, all right, you've made your point. You never read about it on a menu, though?"

"Most of the places I eat don't have it on the menu. That's one of the things the diner never made."

"It's cake soaked in espresso, layered with Mascarpone cheese, sweet wine, and cocoa." Lovino drummed his fingers on the table. "Dammit. I wasn't going to get dessert tonight, but now that I said all that, I want some!"

"Want to split one? It sounds good. Though I do wonder why a French restaurant has it on the menu."

"It's popular, that's why. Ah, I'll get my own. I've been good about my running."

"I'm getting bored with swimming. Maybe I should run with you?"

"Hah." Lovino nearly spit out his wine. "You'll have to run behind me, bastard. If you're in front of me while I'm trying to run, forget it. I'll never be able to concentrate."

Arthur laughed. "Yes, all right. Maybe I'll try some of the fancy cardio machines. Wouldn't want to put you off your stride."

"That's better." He ordered their desserts. "When we get home tonight, let's talk about this house business a little bit more, all right?"

"Whatever works for you."

…

As they settled into bed, Arthur said, "Sometimes I wish I understood how your mind works."

"Hah. Be suspicious of everyone and everything."

The blond rolled over and wrapped an arm around Lovino. "Even me?"

"Especially you, bastard!" Lovino laughed and ruffled his hair. "I mean, not now, but before. I remember wondering how the hell a waiter would be qualified to run my gallery."

Arthur laughed too. "I wasn't even a waiter, you know. Just a busboy."

"Dammit. I've sure come down in the world."

"Nasty git." Arthur rolled away from him. "Good night."

"What? Get back here."

"Why? Suspicious, nasty wanker." Arthur's voice was petulant, but Lovino would have placed a bet it was just a ruse.

"Because I want to talk about this house thing. Because I don't want you to be pissed at me?"

"Then don't say such hurtful things."

"Okay, how about this? You're my glorious, uh, shining blond angel."

Arthur immediately rolled back, laughing. "That's a good one. I wish I could record you saying that and play it back when you're being nasty."

Lovino kissed him. "Shut up. Let's talk about the house."

"What's to talk about? You don't want it, so, you don't want it! What else did you want to say?"

"Uh, well, nothing, I guess? I mean, I thought you were upset and would want to discuss it."

"Eh. You know me. Your decisions are law. I exist only to make you happy."

"You've said that before." Lovino twisted his fingers in Arthur's hair. "Prove it."

…

"Unh. That wasn't even what I had in mind, bastard, but it was great." Lovino wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Good; I'm glad you're happy. See? My mission is accomplished."

Lovino wanted to make a sarcastic comment, but he was too mellow. "Nh."

"Good night, my mysterious dark fallen angel."

"'Night." Lovino rolled over and felt the warm and agile Arthur spooning behind him as he drifted off to sleep.

…

_Sorry for waffling on the house thing, but I had a great idea just before publishing the last chapter, which means that house is not their dream house. _


	106. Green Car Crash

**Green Car Crash.** (Andy Warhol, polymer, ink and acrylic on linen, 1963)

"What? What?" Lovino yelled, sitting up in the bed.

Beside him, Arthur stirred and pushed himself up on an elbow. "What? Nightmare?"

Before either could speak again, Lovino's cell phone, on the bedside table, rang again, and he scooped it up, checking the display. "Dammit! It's Feli. I hope nothing's wrong."

Arthur sat fully up, now in a bit of a panic himself.

"Feli? _Cosa c'è che non va?_"

The blond listened, quite worried, as Lovino shouted into the telephone and the squawks of Feliciano's long-distance voice burbled faintly out of the speaker. Something must be quite wrong. He checked the clock; it was near 4:30 in the morning.

Lovino pushed his free hand through his hair. "_Grazie,_" he said, sounding like he was winding down. "Feli, _grazie...Sì."_ A few more squeaks and he disconnected. "Fuck."

"Wh-what's wrong?" Arthur reached out a hand; Lovino clasped it tightly.

"My cars. One of my cars. A driver got in an accident and died, and the news people are saying there was something wrong with the car." His tone escalated. "There's never anything wrong with my fucking cars! They're perfect!"

"Hush," Arthur told him; he didn't want the adjoining neighbors woken up. He squeezed Lovino's hand. "Calm down."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Listen, I have to call the factory. You get some sleep and I'll go downstairs to call."

"Eh, you might as well call from here. You really think I could sleep now?"

The brunet gave him a very affectionate smile. "Thank you. Will you – will you hold me, while I call? Help me stay calm? Just don't try any stupid stuff."

"You know I wouldn't do that. Not when things are this serious."

"Yeah, I do know. Thanks."

Arthur kissed him and scooted around to sit behind him, encircling Lovino's warm waist with both arms, leaning against his back. His friend punched the speed dial number for the factory and almost immediately began shouting in Italian again. Arthur had to lean backwards during this part, it was so loud.

Rather than try to decipher the language, Arthur let it flow over him, supporting his worried friend. He wasn't a fan of car racing, so he didn't know much about it; he now wondered what exactly happened when a race car crashed. Would Lovino be sued? It didn't seem fair – surely drivers understood the risks they were taking, driving cars like that, driving _any_ kind of car in a race. Arthur fervently hoped this wouldn't cause a lot of headaches, but as he listened to the rapid Italian he realized that was a useless hope.

"Fuck." Lovino disconnected. "Well, there go the weekend plans, anyway. I've got to get over there and do some damage control." He sagged back into Arthur's embrace.

"Are you going to be in trouble? Get sued or something?" Arthur squeezed him.

"I doubt it. Enzo tells me our people are already out there working on the publicity, and another crew has already cleaned up the wreckage. They're not children, these drivers. They know what could happen. Dammit."

"Can I do anything to help?" Arthur kissed his hair. "I know it's going to be stressful."

"Nh. I can't think of anything."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Lovino shook his head. "I'm hoping it'll only be a day or two. I've got to talk to my people, maybe give some stupid interviews, maybe have an inspection, if they really think it was something we did wrong. _Fuck!_" He punched the mattress. "No. You stay here, relax, paint something nice and soothing. Then when I come back to you, you can take care of me. All right?"

Arthur smiled against his friend's hair. "Of course. Whatever you need. When do you need to go?"

"I'm going to leave as soon as I get a bag packed." He kissed Arthur and slid off the bed, heading into the bathroom. "Are you going to stay awake?"

"Might as well. I can't really see myself relaxing right now!"

"Do me a favor; call a cab to get here in half an hour, all right?"

Arthur too got off the bed. "Sure. Want me to start packing for you?"

"I'll do it," his friend said around a mouthful of toothbrush. "Just get some clothes on before the cab driver gets here."

They grinned at each other and began bustling about to get Lovino ready.

...

Once he had left, Arthur discovered he couldn't settle down. Couldn't go back to sleep, although it was only 5:30. He tried to read, and that didn't work, so he made some tea and put the television on to see if there was anything in the news about the car crash.

Nothing came on yet, but he supposed that if it had only just happened prior to Feli's call, it wouldn't have made the American news yet. He went to the big desktop computer in the spare bedroom and looked for information.

Arthur was appalled by what he found. The car had been so badly damaged he could barely tell that it _was_ a car. The driver was the only one who had died, although several other drivers, crashing into the wreckage, had been (successfully) treated for injuries. He looked for statements from anyone who might be able to verify the truth of the allegations – that there had been something wrong with the car. Two videos were up: one of the crash itself (which he chose not to watch) and one interview with the race commentator, who spoke in Italian but was subtitled. Arthur closed his eyes and tried to understand the foreign words.

And he did. Oh, he wasn't grasping the entire presentation, but he certainly understood the gist of it. So his Italian lessons were paying off. That was good. The man recapped what Arthur already knew, though, so in that respect it didn't help him right now.

He poked around online a little while longer, looking up the factory's website, before taking his tea upstairs, where he'd try to paint.

…

"Hey, man!"

"Gilbert? Hi. How are you?" He was happy to hear from his friend, though he didn't want to tie up the line in case Lovino tried to phone.

"How are you? What's going on? I wanted to talk to you, you know. Busy today?"

In a few brief panicked sentences Arthur explained what was going on with Lovino's company.

But Gilbert was understanding. "Just bring your cell phone, kesesese. He's smart enough to call it, isn't he? Let's go to the diner. It'll keep your mind off things and I can talk to you about stuff."

"That's actually a good idea. All I've been doing is pacing around. Yeah. I'll meet you there in half an hour?"

"Sounds good. See ya!"

Arthur, making sure his phone battery had enough charge, left the house.

…

"So this is pretty bad shit, huh?" the albino asked him, folding a napkin into an intricate shape. "You haven't heard from him since he left?"

"No, but I'm sure he's up to his arse in public relations right now." Arthur sipped his tea, acting calmer than he really felt.

"You should check on the internet when you get back. Maybe he had to make some kind of statement, or whatever. To the news media."

"Good idea. I did look some stuff up this morning but even though I kept checking there was nothing new after about eight o'clock, so I gave up. But listen, forget about that for a while, or I'll just keep fretting all day. What's going on with you?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. Same old, same old. I'm kind of back to my old dating ways, but I'm not really enjoying it much."

"Do you miss Feliks?" Arthur asked in concern. Maybe this was why Gilbert had wanted to talk?

But to his amazement Gilbert burst out laughing and threw the folded paper napkin at his head; he swatted it aside. "No! Hell, no. I mean…well, Feliks was fun, but I always felt like I was living in some kind of bizarre dream world when I was with him. It wasn't really reality, you know? Too much weirdness."

Arthur nodded. "I can see that." He finished his tea. "If you're not having fun, you should stop dating, though. It's not fair to the other person."

"I know." Gilbert sighed. "I know what I want. I just don't know how to make it work."

"Mathias?" Arthur felt a little stupid saying it, but then his friend nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, that's just the kind of guy – the kind of _person_ – I like to hang out with. Ah, whatever. Let's not get bogged down in it."

"You should convince him to move to Washington," Arthur then said. "I hear everyone who's _anyone_ is doing that, these days."

Gilbert laughed again and threw another napkin, unfolded, which fluttered down onto the table between them; Arthur picked it up and handed it back with a snort. "So what have you and Lovino awesomely been up to since you got back?"

He detailed the Italian lessons, the workouts, the everlasting house hunt, and the new cooking lessons Lovino was thinking of taking. "Though I don't really know why. Everything he cooks is amazing."

Gilbert smirked at him. "It's just because you can't cook. Anything's going to taste amazing, to you."

"Shut it."

"Well, we're eating at this diner, right? That just proves it. You're just not a fussy eater."

"Will you shut it?" Arthur demanded angrily, and then they both burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm right."

Arthur ignored this; they chatted idly of this and that while they ordered, ate, drank. Gilbert spoke about work; Arthur about his painting. When he told his friend the turtle story, the albino laughed hysterically. "Wish I could have seen that. I like turtles."

"Not like this. It was really creepy!"

"If it happens again, though, call me. I'd definitely come over and see the awesome turtles! Kesesese!"

"Yes, all right. I'll call you about the awesome turtles." Since it was Saturday, Arthur now wondered, "What are you doing the rest of the day?"

"Nothing, really. Library, maybe. Want to do anything?"

"Eh. I'd like to, but I'm so tense about this car smash business. I don't think I'd be very good company. If you want to come over –?"

"If you want me to, I awesomely will, but if you're just going to be pacing and fretting, then –"

"Yeah. Probably. Forget it, let's save it for a day when I'm in a better mood."

"I understand. Give me a call if you want to talk." Gilbert paid the bill and they left.

"But I don't want to tie up my phone! Oh, maybe I'll just email you." He walked over to the Ducati; Gilbert followed.

"Sure, it goes to my cell phone if I'm not at the computer. Keep me posted, all right?" They hugged briefly.

"Yeah. Thanks for taking me out of myself for a while."

"Kesesese! No problem, Artie. See ya."

…

When Arthur got back home he made a beeline for the computer and discovered that Lovino had given a press conference today, which had been recorded and uploaded to the web. Half-panicked, half-reassured, he clicked on the video and listened to a female interpreter translating Lovino's Italian into English.

He listened to the whole seven-minute video, looking at Lovino but not really seeing him, sagging in relief as the interpreter's nondescript BBC voice parroted his friend's explanation. The car had been cleared for use by both the driver's crew and the race officials before the start of the race. There was nothing that Lovino's company could be faulted for. Arthur took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. Now he simply wondered when Lovino might call to check in.

Then he searched the internet for "Vargas intervista" ("Vargas interview") to see if he could find the video in Italian. When he did, he listened to this one, to his friend's lilting voice, and his relief grew.

As he watched, he was struck by Lovino's professional demeanor throughout the press conference. Wearing a business suit – which was nothing new to Arthur – he projected a mature, calm persona, smiling pleasantly, answering questions from men and women with ease. He worked his audience masterfully. The blond forgot to listen to Lovino's commentary, because he was focusing on his body language instead. This was a side of his lover he'd never seen, never expected to see.

Feeling like an idiot, he watched the video several more times throughout the afternoon as he tried to read, tried to paint, tried to bake scones (and failed). But at least he knew Lovino was all right, was not going to be embroiled in some horrible headline-making European lawsuit. He went upstairs (with his phone) and took a brief, refreshing nap.

Then he downloaded the video to his phone, just for keeps, feeling like even more of a lovestruck idiot. If Lovino ever found out –

Then he worked on his turtle painting for a while.

Much later that night, Arthur flopped down on the parlor sofa and picked up his phone. He wondered whether he dared call Lovino, and then realized it was very early in the morning over there. Too early. He lay back on the sofa, worrying again.

Despite his earlier nap he fell asleep almost instantly, worn out from the constant pacing and worrying.

And he woke up almost instantly as his phone, lying on his stomach, rang. "Uh? Hello?"

"Arthur," Lovino's calm, deep voice said. "Did I wake you?"

"Nh, yes, but that's all right." He struggled to sound coherent. "I've been so worried, but I didn't want to call you at this hour of the morning. How are things?"

"Not as bad as I'd feared. There's not going to be any fucking lawsuit, or any shit like that. The car was cleared for the race by his crew and the officials. Too many people verified that it was all right; they can't ding us on that now. Besides, the bastard had the car for eight months where he successfully raced it. Not a damn thing anyone can pin on us."

"I saw your interview. It relieved me a lot."

"Stalking bastard. I hope you weren't spending all day worrying." He cleared his throat. "I'm really tired, but I wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep."

Arthur, who had started out feeling sentimental at the beginning of that sentence, now got quite irritated. "You've been awake all this time? You need your rest! I'll be here later. Go get some sleep and call me when you're rested."

"Ah, bastard, you really are so good to worry about me, but don't. I'm staying at Feli's apartment; he's going to let me sleep as long as I can. Tomorrow all I really need to do is meet with my people about operations and things. I should be flying home late tomorrow night; might get back to you before midnight. And I can sleep on the plane if I need to."

"I do worry about you," Arthur told him, but with a little less venom. "But I'm glad you'll be home soon; I'm even more glad that nothing is really wrong. Now go to sleep!"

"Yes, _boss_," Lovino laughed. "You too. You did worry about me all day, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. But I went to lunch with Gilbert; that helped take my mind off it. He sends his best wishes and whatever."

"Yeah. Well, don't worry. I'll call you when I have my flight information, all right?"

"All right. I'll meet you at the airport. Good night." Arthur blew him a kiss through the phone.

"Good night to you too, sweet thing." Lovino reciprocated and hung up.

Now in a much calmer frame of mind, Arthur went up to bed and put the phone on the charger. _Whew._

…

_I'm glad I discovered all the Andy Warhol car crash paintings, though I'm not planning to use any more of them. _


	107. Catching a Catfish with a Gourd

**Catching a Catfish with a Gourd.** (Josetsu, ink on paper, 1413)

Arthur reached for the exhausted Lovino and held him close in the bed, rubbing his thumb over the dark circles under the weary amber eyes. His flight had arrived after midnight; they'd headed for home without saying much, but Arthur could tell Lovino was finally beginning to relax. The brunet sighed and rested his head on Arthur's chest.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he mumbled.

"You know it isn't a problem. Want to sleep, or talk?"

"Nh. Let's talk, unless you're too tired?"

But Arthur had slept soundly past noon, knowing everything was all right, and he was quite alert. "I don't mind, but you need some rest."

"I can sleep late. I slept on the plane, too. I finally made a decision while I was over there, a decision that relieved me a lot."

"Uh-oh. You're not selling the company, are you?"

Lovino took his hand and laced their fingers together. "No. I would never sell that company unless times were really desperate. It's my only real link to my family. No. For a long time – long before I met you, as a matter of fact, since I was at university – I've been considering making a switchover from race cars to street-legal cars. This was the prod that finally made up my mind for me."

"Bloody hell."

"What?" Lovino squeezed his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Who the hell has money for cars like those?" Whoops. Arthur thought maybe that was a little harsh.

But his friend laughed. "Arthur, my naïve young friend…I mean, my naïve _old_ friend…there are shitloads of people in the world with that kind of money. We've had a waiting list for the last ten years of rich bastards who want cars, even though we never even made any kind of announcement that it was under consideration. I'll sell more cars this way than I did to the limited racing market, and for a higher price, too."

Arthur blew out a breath. "Stop calling me old," was his first response, and Lovino laughed at him again. Then he focused on the discussion. "Will it be difficult to change over?"

"Not much. My design team is working on things, but we still have three race cars in the pipeline for this year. Once they're done, we'll switch over; that gives me a while to get things sorted out, legally and as far as the assembly process goes. I'm going to go back in a few months for a longer visit, meet with the teams, the lawyers and all that, make a media announcement. Will you go with me?"

"You know I will." Arthur squeezed his hand. "I'm just so relieved that everything seems to have worked out and you're not going to get sued."

"Yeah. Me too."

"I was really impressed with your press conference yesterday, or whatever it was," Arthur then confessed. "You were really professional! I thought you'd be an angry – er – bastard, because it was such a rough topic, but you were very impressive."

"I took a lot of public speaking courses. Knew I'd have to deal with it every now and then. But," and Lovino's voice turned shy, "I admit I was – was thinking you might see it, and so I tried to be more calm than I really was. I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed."

Arthur ran his hand through Lovino's hair. "Don't worry about that. If you were going to embarrass me, it would have happened a long time ago." He lifted his head and they shared a quick kiss. "Do you want to do anything tomorrow, or just rest?"

"Huh. Well, let's see how it goes. I'm sure we'll both sleep late, and I already know I won't want to bother with the fucking gym for a few days. Let's just go to sleep and see how we feel tomorrow. Uh – unless there was something specific on your agenda?"

"No," Arthur laughed, as always amused by Lovino's afterthought attempts to sound unselfish. "Let's get some rest."

Lovino rolled onto his side and snuggled up close. "Glad I have you to come home to, Arthur. So very glad."

He leaned over and kissed his friend's forehead. "Me too. Sleep well."

…


	108. Cubist Still Life with Lemons

**Cubist Still Life with Lemons.** (Roy Lichtenstein, oil on canvas, 1975)

Arthur began to wake up. Lovino, silently laughing, slipped out of the bed in the early morning light and placed something on the mattress. He hid behind the bathroom door to watch.

"Good mor—_aah!"_ Arthur, sounding terrified, scrambled away and fell off the other side of the bed. "Ow! Bloody hell, they're in the _house_! Lovino! _Lovino!_" he yelled hoarsely, kneeling upright and peering over the top of the mattress again.

Inside the bathroom, Lovino sank to his knees, still trying to stifle his laughter.

"Where are you?" his friend now shouted. "There's a bloody _turtle_ in the _bed! Lovino!_" His voice was panicked.

The brunet couldn't keep his composure; he started guffawing in the bathroom and slumped onto the floor. Arthur, his hair sticking up all over, stood up and scowled at him over the top of the mattress, and then scowled at the turtle in the bed. He looked back at Lovino, and then at the turtle. "You total git," he finally sighed, picking up the toy turtle.

Lovino, still laughing, came out of the bathroom and jumped on the bed. "I wish I'd rigged up a video camera. That was excellent! You were so scared, bastard. Look, it still has the tag on it. It's on a rampage from the toy shop!"

Arthur climbed back up on the bed. "I hate you." He snorted; Lovino started laughing again and Arthur hit him with the turtle.

"Ow. Dammit. I was just trying to get you back for that stupid painting you did, with the turtles crawling all over me."

"Wanker. I'm never going to paint you again."

"That might be best," Lovino agreed, "but you have to admit this was really fucking funny."

"Don't have to admit any such thing," Arthur pouted in return.

Lovino waited.

"Well. It _was_ pretty 'fucking funny,'" Arthur eventually admitted in a snooty tone, making his friend laugh again.

"Glad you liked it, loverboy. Come on, get up."

"Might as well. There's so much adrenaline flowing through my veins, I'd never get back to sleep."

"Why don't we go for our Virginia wine tour today?" Lovino suggested. "I'm over my jet lag. And it looks like a nice day." He leaned over and kissed the still-grumpy Arthur. "Come on, don't pout, sweet thing."

Arthur grabbed him and rolled over on top of him. "It's nice to see you letting loose this way, even at my expense. You're the best, you know that?" He planted a very firm kiss on the tip of Lovino's nose.

"Yeah, I know it; known it for years. Shift your ass; let's get up and do something."

…

"I love summertime," Arthur sighed, driving the Jaguar, with the top down, out towards wine country. "Even if I do end up being your bloody personal chauffeur all the time."

But Lovino was in such a good mood he didn't even rise to this. "Thanks," was all he said.

The day was indeed beautiful; midweek, there was very little traffic, and the direction they were headed was against traffic anyway. Lovino was armed with the GPS, pinpointing the five locations they'd decided on, although they weren't trying to keep to a schedule.

"Can we have lunch at the place you ate? That interview day?"

"Sure, bastard, whatever you like." Lovino threw out an unusual comment: "I exist only to make you happy."

"Wanker."

"Hey, did you remember Karpusi's waiting for some paintings from you? We told him July, and that's next month."

"Yes, I remembered. I have one done, one almost done, and two about half done."

"Turn left in half a mile," Lovino announced, before returning to the topic. "Not the stupid turtle one!"

Arthur laughed. "No. I'm going to hang that in our bedroom."

"Fine. We can put a little table under it with the toy turtle. Like a shrine. Now, about the paintings. Are you going to raise your prices?"

"Do you think I should? I don't want to ask so much money that they stop buying!"

"Idiot. They won't. The problem is that if you're pricing them too cheaply, they might think you're some amateur."

"How can I tell? I mean…the prices we had at the open house, the one in Rome, I thought the prices were pretty high, even allowing for the Euro conversion and the cost we paid to ship them."

"Double it," Lovino suggested.

"What? Are you being completely arbitrary? Or do you have some marketing-genius reason for that?" Arthur turned in at the winery's entrance and headed down the long drive for the parking lot.

"Charge what the market will bear. You might as well ask double. In a case like this, Karpusi will buy them from you and set a price for his client or clients. If Karpusi's willing to pay you double, then that means he's liable to get four times your original asking price, when he sells them. It's something to think about."

Arthur parked the car and they got out, temporarily shelving the painting discussion. "This is a really small place. This is really a winery? Where are the grapevines?"

"Cheh. Sometimes these are just like, uh, showrooms. Places for the customers to come and tour. Sometimes the vineyards are quite a ways away – so far that it's unlikely people would just drop by. So the wineries build these touristy kinds of places for people to visit, sample the wines, get a little flavor of the countryside, without having to drive another hundred miles just to see the actual planting fields."

"More marketing shite," Arthur snorted.

Lovino poked him. "Shut up. Come on, let's go sample some wine."

As they toured the little customer areas, Lovino taught his friend the proper way to sample wines. Always start with the lightest first, because once you taste a darker wine, your palate will be unable to discern the nuances of the lighter ones. Always swirl the wine around in the glass and look at it. Wines with a high sugar content will coat the inside of the glass on the way down; more acidic wines will break into droplets and flow down into the glass faster. Smell the wine; make sure it is pleasing to you, not overpowering or too strongly flavored with one jarring note. Sip it, allowing it to spread over the tongue and taste buds, savoring the experience to decide whether you like it or not. Sense the aftertaste to make certain there is no heavy lingering acidity or chemical taste to it. When necessary, have a cracker between wines to cleanse the palate, to neutralize things, so that you are prepared for the next tasting.

Arthur was an attentive pupil during the little tour. Several of the sweeter wines he dismissed almost immediately as being too sugary. He and Lovino discussed grape varieties and processing with the staff, and the staff was impressed with the brunet's knowledge.

"This reminds me of when I teach you about art," Arthur laughed as they headed for the second winery.

"Soon we're both going to be experts on everything."

"Hah. Not bloody likely. You'll never turn me into a marketing expert."

"You're right; I hadn't considered that. You'll be an expert chauffeur, though. Drive on, Arthur."

The blond sighed in resignation. "Yes, master."

…

"Lot of properties for sale out here," Arthur noticed, as they were heading for home at the end of the day. "I guess a lot of country residents want to move to the big city, and vice versa."

"The grass is always greener," Lovino agreed. "Remember your dream of living in a country house? After a pastoral day like today, that's sounding really sweet."

Arthur stretched. "Did any of this make you want to buy another winery?"

And then both of them stared at each other with shocked faces. It was a good thing they were at a stop light. "Bastard, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Er, well, probably, but – no, maybe not. What were you thinking?"

"Buying a winery out here. A winery with a manor house. Moving out here and running the winery." Lovino was more than intrigued by now; just saying it out loud sounded nice. "Is that what you were thinking?"

"Yes, but it was just a knee-jerk reaction. You're a city boy! You always say that!" The light changed and Arthur drove on.

"Idiot. Washington's only an hour away. It's not like these wineries are in fucking Kentucky or something."

"Do you really think you could be happy living out here, though? Even _with_ your own winery?"

"Kirkland-Vargas Winery," Lovino sighed, ignoring the question.

"_What?_ Are you nuts? Why Kirkland?"

"It's your name, stupid."

"Don't be a bloody idiot. I mean, why should my name be on the winery?"

"Because it would be your winery too. If you think I'm going to move out here and run a winery while you live it up all alone in the city –"

"Don't be stupid. I just meant that I have no experience with such a thing. I wouldn't be a bloody bit of help!"

Lovino patted his arm. "Sure you would, bastard. You could still do the things for me that you do at home. You could design labels for our wine bottles! There's a ton of stuff you can do. It's not like I'm going to be down there bottling wine myself, you know. I'm just going to be the – uh – the financier, or whatever. The figurehead. You can be my aide."

"What the hell does that entail?"

"Driving me around."

"Hah."

"Taking care of my pet turtles."

A snort.

"Making sure I stay sane?" Lovino suggested sweetly. Of course Arthur softened, at that.

"Yes, all right, all right, but don't call it the bloody Kirkland-Vargas Winery!"

"I don't see why not. It sounds better than the Vargas-Kirkland Winery. Better cadence."

"Don't put Kirkland in it at all!" Arthur yelled, pounding on the steering wheel. He hit the horn accidentally and startled both of them. "Blast."

Lovino laughed at him. "Well, if we buy an existing winery, we'll probably just transfer ownership of the name, not start with a brand new name outright. Wouldn't want to scare the customers away."

Arthur shrugged, still looking a little irritable. "Whatever."

"Let's look things up when we get home. There's bound to be some winery-specific real estate website. Or if not, we can give Laurinaitis a call. It's probably not his area of expertise, but he can point us in the right direction."

"Er – well – something does occur to me."

"What now?"

"You really are a city boy, you know. What happens when you decide you want to go clubbing in our punk clothes, and we're out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Cheh, no problem. I'll buy a little condo we can keep for the times we want to stay overnight in the city."

"You're serious."

"Yes, I'm serious! Why should I have to book a fucking hotel room every time I want to stay in the city?" Lovino was dumbfounded.

"That wasn't actually my point."

"Oh. About the money? Bastard, I thought we settled all that."

"We – we did," Arthur hesitated, which made Lovino laugh.

"Ah, don't worry about it. We don't even know if there are any wineries for sale around here, and I'm not going to start up some brand new winery from scratch. Let's just take a look, all right? No sense getting into a panic at this stage of the game."

Arthur nodded. "Yes. I'm being a bit unreasonable, I know."

"I know too."

"Git."

"Be nice to have our own personal wine cellar on tap, too," Lovino mused.

"Isn't that actually a bad thing? We'd get bombed all the time."

"Bastard! We barely drink at all. I really don't expect us to go off the deep end."

"You're right again." Arthur sighed. "Besides, we'd be living so far away from the gym…it'd just be more sensible to not put the weight on."

"Don't worry; I won't let you get fat again."

"What do you mean 'again'?" Arthur grimaced and punched Lovino in the arm.

But he ignored it. "We could even set up the customer display area with artworks. Start another gallery in the winery. Then you wouldn't have to go back to stupid Williams at the old gallery when you wanted to sell things."

"You are the best boyfriend I ever had," Arthur told him, nodding feverishly.

"Yeah, I know. Drive on, Arthur."

…

_So, yeah. This is my long-term plan for them. There was no real reason Lovino vetoed that other house, except for possible buyer's remorse. Luckily this idea occurred to them before they went any further with that other one._

_If I could live anywhere in the world, it would either be the north York moors, Virginia wine country, or Salzburg. _

_I hope the chapter title didn't lead anyone to expect lemons in the chapter!_


	109. Dannebrog Falling from the Sky

**Dannebrog Falling from the Sky during the Battle of Lyndanisse, June 15, 1219.** (Christian August Lorentzen, oil on canvas, 1809)

"Eh, are we doing anything today?" Arthur stretched and stepped on the scale. Good. He'd lost a little more weight. He didn't want Lovino to keep calling him fat, although he'd bet he'd keep hearing it for at least a little while.

"Didn't have any plans. What did you want to do? Did you email Laurinaitis?"

"Not yet." Arthur turned on the water to wash his face. "I'll call him this morning."

"We'll think of something." Lovino shrugged and left the bathroom.

Arthur finished up and began to get dressed. It was after lunchtime, but the two of them, in the frenzy of the winery idea, had stayed up quite late doing internet research. There wasn't much to go on, though, so he'd planned to telephone Mr. Laurinaitis this afternoon. But if Lovino was that determined, he supposed he'd better get cracking and do it now.

Downstairs in the kitchen, a fresh mug of tea was waiting. As he reached for it with a grin, his cell phone, charging near the toaster, rang. "Oh, it's Gilbert." He answered it. "Hey."

Lovino stood making faces at him while he listened to Gilbert's fast speech, so Arthur had to turn his back. "Wait, git, slow down. What?...Well, no, we just got up."

Gilbert's "kesesese" squawked so loudly through the speaker that Arthur had to hold it away from his ear. Behind him, he heard Lovino laugh and walk away.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Anyway, what?...Yeah, I guess we can do that. Right now?...All right, I'll tell him. Why aren't you at work? Taking a late lunch? By the time we get there, you'll – Yes, yes. We'll see you in about forty-five minutes. Right. Cheerio." He hung up the phone.

"'Cheerio'?" Lovino laughed. "You don't say that very often. What's the bastard want?"

"Desperate for us to go to the diner, right now," Arthur shrugged. "Wouldn't say why it's so important."

"Might as well. I'm starving."

"You drive this time. I'm sick of being the bloody chauffeur."

Lovino bowed. "Happy to accommodate you, my dear. Pray, proceed."

Arthur snorted and headed for the door.

…

"Arthur!" Gilbert yelled, when they walked into the diner, and everyone around them turned to see the albino standing at his table, waving his arms wildly, and cackling like a madman. "Kesesese!"

"What the bloody hell are you – _oh!_ Mathias!" Arthur was quite surprised to see the tall Dane seated at the table.

So, apparently, was Lovino. "Bastard! What the fuck are you doing in Washington?"

Mathias laughed, shaking his hand, as Gilbert hugged Arthur enthusiastically. "Great to see you too. Both of you."

"Sit, sit, sit!" Gilbert's tone was still quite over the top.

Arthur punched him. "Will you shut it? Everyone in the diner is staring at you!"

He immediately settled down and buffed his nails on his shirt. "They'd stare at me anyway, you know," he said in a snooty voice. "I'm just that awesome." No one responded to that.

"Seriously," Lovino said to Mathias. "Since we'll never get a straight answer from this bastard, tell me what you're doing here."

Mathias chuckled. "Never been to America before. Gilbert invited me; I had the vacation, so…voila!"

"That's…surprising?" Arthur said. "But I guess you two have been emailing a lot, right?"

"Right." He drank some iced tea.

"When did you get here? How long are you staying?"

"Just got over my jet lag. I have three weeks."

"Three weeks of pure awesomeness," Gilbert beamed. Arthur laughed at him, and the albino hugged him again.

"Well, we'll have to take you to all the best places," Lovino stated firmly. Then he blushed, rubbed his hand over his face, and muttered, "Sorry. Sorry, bas—Gilbert. Didn't mean to try to horn in. Sorry."

Blast. Arthur just wanted to hug him.

But Gilbert and Mathias surprised them. "That's exactly what we were hoping, though," Mathias told them. "That the four of us could hang out together while I'm here. I mean, I guess you guys have to work, but…I'm sure we can do something, right?"

Startled, Arthur met Lovino's eyes. Gilbert hadn't blabbed about Lovino's money, apparently...or the _kept man_ thing. "Uh, yeah, we can work something out," Lovino eventually muttered.

"Kesesese! This is so cool. It's like a whole year of vacations."

"Except for work!" Arthur laughed, poking him.

"Well, forget about work. Tomorrow's the weekend; let's think of something cool to do!"

Three brains whirled while Mathias continued to calmly eat and drink.

"I got nothing," Gilbert eventually said. "I mean, we could go back to the Black Cat one night?"

"Do not, _do not_ invite bloody Alfred!"

"I'm sorry." Gilbert hugged him again. "I really am. I just keep forgetting, you know?"

"We know, dammit."

"Er. Let me talk to Lovino for a second."

Puzzled, the brunet got up and followed Arthur to the counter. "Want to go to the wineries? Give us a chance to see if that business yesterday was just wine-induced euphoria?"

"Not a bad idea, but I only have two-seaters, you know. I guess we could each take a car?"

"Eh. Gilbert's convertible is a four-seater. We'll make him drive. If they even want to go."

"Sure. Let's go back and ask them."

When asked, both the others were quite eager to do this. "Have you ever been out there before?" Gilbert wondered.

Arthur deferred to Lovino, who said, "Just there yesterday. I'm thinking of buying a winery."

Whoops. If Mathias didn't know about Lovino's money yet, then –

"That is _so cool!_" Gilbert yelled again; Arthur punched him. "Ow. Party pooper. Seriously, Lovino, that's awesome."

Mathias agreed. "I bet it would be a lot of fun to own a winery."

"Now, you see, this is what everybody thinks," Lovino replied in a lecturing tone. "Everybody thinks about the wine, and nobody considers the business end of it! It's not like you get to sit around boozing it up all the time, or playing bartender to visitors. It's a _business_."

"Still, it would be a lot more fun to work out in the country, working at a winery, than at a bank," Gilbert sighed. "I don't even like wine much, so it's not like I'd want to be boozing it up anyway. I'm a beer man all the way." He burped.

"We know," the other three said.

"Well? Do you want to go out there tomorrow?"

"I'm game," Mathias told them. "American wineries would be really interesting."

"Then let's do it." Gilbert nodded and picked up the salt shaker.

"You need to drive. We only have a two-seater, bastard."

The albino sighed, spilling some salt onto his plate and drawing little designs with the tip of his finger. "Yes, all right. I'll be the chauffeur."

Both Lovino and Arthur laughed at that, and then further at the perplexed expression on Gilbert's face. "Ah, never mind, git," Arthur laughed. "Should we go to the Black Cat tonight?" He smiled secretly at Lovino.

"Awesome! Sure."

…

They got home quite late; Gilbert had spent their time at the club demonstrating just how much of a beer man he actually was. Lovino had nervously asked Arthur whether they'd need to drive him and Mathias back to the albino's condo. But Gilbert was an expert beer man. He had drunk all night and remained quite alert afterwards, if a bit tired.

"Hey, right, we'll see you in the morning, okay, git?" Arthur had asked, hugging him. "You'll be all right?"

"You know me, Artie. I'll awesomely be all right. Come on, Mathias, we can walk from here. See ya! Kesesese!"

Arthur and Lovino had headed back home.

Now they reached the bedroom; the blond was slightly tired despite his lie-in. He began to open his belt and Lovino put out a hand to stop him. "What?" Arthur asked.

"Bastard," Lovino murmured, beginning to kiss him under the ear, "you don't seriously expect that after a night of looking at you dressed that way, I'm going to let you just strip and go to sleep?"

Arthur leaned his head back, savoring the feeling of his lover's warm lips and tongue on his neck. "Mm…show me what you have in mind," he breathed. "Show me how good you think I look."

Lovino shoved him up against the wall. "That was my plan," he grinned, undoing Arthur's zipper and pushing the punk jeans down.

…

_The Dannebrog is the Danish flag. The story of this painting happened to be on the home page of Wikipedia the day I started writing this chapter. _


	110. The Wine Harvest

**The Wine Harvest (Autumn). **(Francisco de Goya, oil on canvas, 1788)

"Where the fuck are my shoes, bastard?"

"How the hell would I know?"

Lovino was irritated. He'd planned a really nice day out for today – Mathias' last day in Washington – and everything was going wrong. The other two would be here soon and they were out of coffee, he couldn't find his shoes, or his keys, or – "Oh, here they are."

"Right on the shoe rack. Fancy that."

"Shut up. Come on, let's move it."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Arthur wondered. "Got something funny up your sleeve?"

"Yes, so shut the fuck up and come outside."

Arthur shrugged and followed. "Do I need anything? Sketchbook, whatever?"

Lovino turned and gave him a tiny little kiss on the cheek. "Not today. Just be patient. You, in particular, are going to have a very nice time today." They walked outside and sat on the stoop to wait for Gilbert and Mathias; the brunet, feeling mellow, slipped an arm around Arthur's waist and leaned against him.

"Me? What about Mathias? I thought we were supposed to be showing him all the fun stuff?"

They'd had a whirlwind three weeks with the Dane, visiting the wineries, clubs, museums (Arthur had once again been roped into tour guide duty), even a boat tour all the way down the Potomac into Chesapeake Bay, one weekend day. And Kings Dominion (skeeball had been resolutely avoided). Lovino had invited them over and cooked dinner one night, astonishing and delighting Arthur. The brunet had really been enjoying himself, and he wanted to do something nice for Arthur, who had been so patient about all of this. So he and Gilbert had cooked up a little scheme for today.

Lovino was a little conflicted about the first part, but maybe the albino had already been to Great Falls at some point. It wasn't like he and Arthur could hog it as their exclusive romantic spot.

The familiar convertible, its top down, pulled up, and the two friends jumped up and headed to the curb.

…

"Have you ever been here, bastard?" Lovino asked Gilbert as they pulled into the Great Falls parking lot. Mostly he was trying to make conversation so he could avoid looking at Arthur, who had _that smile_ on his face again, and who was surreptitiously squeezing his hand on the car seat.

"Nope. Heard about it, never been here."

"It's wonderful," Arthur sighed, sounding like a teenage girl talking about her first crush. Lovino laughed at him. "Well, it is!"

They got out of the car and hurried down the populous pathway to their favorite lookout, allowing Gilbert and Mathias to take in the beauty of the scene.

"This is breathtaking," Mathias realized. "I don't believe I've ever seen this kind of thing before." He gazed at the river's torrent with a distant grin on his face.

"Next time we should go to Niagara Falls! That's an awesome place." Gilbert nodded.

"Famous for honeymoons," Lovino shot back, grinning.

"Kesesesese!"

The four friends spent most of the morning swarming over the rocks, hiking up and down the river path, discussing the terrain and geographic niceties of the area. They'd been near the Blue Ridge Mountains on their winery day, and Mathias was quite surprised at the diversity of nature so close to the nation's famous capital.

"Cheh, that's why they put it here, I guess. Lots of good things to look at."

"Eh, who cares why?" Arthur poked him. "Let's just enjoy it."

"I'm starting to get hungry," Gilbert then began to moan, giving Lovino a funny grin.

"Yes, yes, all right, bastard, we can go eat. All right with you two?"

"Fine with me," Arthur answered. "You know me; I'll eat anytime, anywhere."

"I don't mind." Mathias clapped Lovino on the back. "You have some kind of plan, don't you?"

"_Chigi!_ Am I really this fucking transparent?" The brunet scowled and walked away, to the accompaniment of chortles behind him. Arthur scurried up and hugged him around the waist from behind, lifting him into the air. "Put me down, bastard."

Arthur put him down. "I love to hug you," he said in a quiet tone, making Lovino blush.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Save it for later." He finally grinned at all his friends and they headed to the car.

…

"What's this place?" Arthur asked. "An Irish pub? In the middle of Virginia?"

Lovino blushed. "They – they have fish and chips on the menu. I thought we could try them and see if they're good enough for you." Then: "Dammit! Put me down, bastard!" This as Arthur picked him up and spun him around, laughing.

"Thank you, thank you!" He set Lovino down and hugged him, and then his other two friends. "This is a wonderful surprise."

"Don't get all excited, kesesese. They might be really _bad_ fish and chips!"

"It's the thought that counts," Mathias said with a grin. "Come on. Irish beer!" He and Gilbert ran into the pub.

"You've constantly been surprising me the last couple of weeks," Arthur said.

"Have to keep you guessing, bastard. Come on. Come drink some Irish beer."

…

At the end of the meal Lovino negligently threw his credit card on the table for the server to process. Mathias picked it up and fiddled with it a little. "Vargas," he said idly. "Any relation to – _oh!_ You're _Lovino Vargas_!"

Gilbert gave his new friend a very funny look.

Arthur gave Lovino a very nervous look.

And Lovino just laughed and nodded. "Yeah. I thought maybe you hadn't quite realized."

"But you're famous! Wow. I never met anybody famous before." Mathias dropped the credit card as if it were too hot to handle.

"Not that famous over here," Lovino pointed out in a quiet tone, but still smiling. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"Oh! Oh, sure, yes, of – of course, I'm sorry, of course." Mathias was red and stammering; Gilbert leaned over and gave him a hug.

"Kesesese! Lovino's totally – er, he's _majorly_ awesome about it, man, so don't worry. Though you do look super-cute when you're blushing."

This, of course, made the Dane blush even more, and everyone busied themselves scanning the restaurant or their drinks, to give him time to calm down.

"So, bastard, did the fish and chips meet with your approval?"

"Eh. When you're with friends, everything tastes good." Arthur gave them all a nice sweet smile.

This lasted until both Lovino and Gilbert said, "Except your scones!" and then met each other's eyes, bursting into laughter; the waiter took the credit card and check as a frowning Arthur punched the brunet's arm.

"You are all a bunch of complete wankers."

"Yeah, we know, Artie, we awesomely know!"

…

At home, winding down, Arthur sat on the parlor sofa and pulled Lovino down onto his lap for some snuggling. "I had a great day today. Thanks."

"No problem. It just felt like we were so focused on Mathias that I was neglecting you, and I didn't like that feeling."

Arthur kissed him. "And you have such a reputation as a cold, horrible bastard. Who would have suspected the mushy heart that lies beneath?"

"Shut up, you idiot."

"Hey, I have to keep _you_ guessing."

"Shut up, I said. Keep kissing me."

"Your wish is my command, O master."

Conversation died out, and soon the only noises in the room were little pleased murmurs and the subtle rustle of clothing being discarded.

…


	111. Battle Cart with Mobile Scythes

**Battle Cart with Mobile Scythes.** (Leonardo da Vinci, pen and ink with wash, 1485)

Whistling to himself, Lovino picked up the mail, leafing through the envelopes somewhat absently, because he didn't have his glasses on. Arthur was off at his Italian lessons; they'd worked out this morning, and Laurinaitis was investigating wineries for purchase, now that Mathias had gone back to Paris. Things were settling back into a routine.

He was about to toss the mail on the kitchen counter for Arthur to deal with – most of it was bills – when a thick cream-colored envelope caught his eye. Hm. It was addressed to him, and looked very formal. He picked it up and squinted, noting a Zurich return address. Oh. Must be from Vash, or Roderich. He put on his glasses and opened it.

When he read the contents he yelled, "What the fuck?" and fumbled it all; invitations, a photograph, and an RSVP form spilled all over the kitchen. "Dammit!" He scrambled to pick them up. "Dammit," he said again, more quietly, when he'd reread it. "Married?"

Fuck. Roderich and Vash were getting married, and they'd invited Lovino and Arthur.

"Shit!" he yelled, stamping his foot, and threw all the paperwork straight into the recycle bin.

No, that wouldn't do. Arthur might see it. He took all the paper out again and hastened to his office, shoving the papers into the top drawer of the desk and locking it. Only when this had been completed did he start to think about it a little more carefully.

He had to read it again; Lovino simply couldn't believe it. This time he locked the office door – just in case Arthur came home early – and then took the papers out of the desk drawer, sitting to process this calmly.

Yes. Here was a beautiful formal photograph of the two of them, an invitation to the civil ceremony they'd hold next month, an RSVP card, and an envelope to send it back. Roderich had scrawled on the invitation, "Lovino – please attend!" with the word "please" underlined several times.

Dammit. If it wasn't for Arthur, he'd send the RSVP card back, right now, and look forward to seeing the bastards get married. He spent a few moments imagining Vash in a lavish white bridal gown, laughing to himself, before his brain went into panic mode again.

He couldn't let Arthur know about this. He just couldn't. What if – if it made Arthur propose? Lovino felt himself turning red and scrubbed both hands over his face, putting his elbows on the desk and taking a few deep breaths. He simply _could not_ get publicly married to a man, even though Arthur was the love of his life; there was no way his reputation would survive such a thing. Dammit! How the hell could he explain something like that to Arthur without coming across as a selfish bastard (again)?

Well, he could try to get a grip, at least, instead of cowering in his office. He locked up the paperwork again and headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. That might help.

Fuck, he didn't want to insult his old schoolmates by refusing to attend! Maybe he could tell Arthur he had a business meeting in Europe, and travel without him? Shit, no, that was ridiculous, and the next time they ran into the happy couple (as they invariably would), Lovino would end up looking like a stupid ass.

Coffee in hand, he paced around his small kitchen for a long time, unable to come up with a solution. Then he finally decided to cook something. That would at least help him settle down. "_Fuck_!" he yelled, just to vent.

When Arthur got home he came right into the kitchen. "Wow! What a mess! What are you cooking? It smells really good." The blond sniffed the air a few times.

But Lovino's brain had frozen right up again, and all he could think about was the stupid wedding invitation. "Hi," he said shortly, and then panicked because Arthur would sense something was wrong.

But no. "I see you're busy. I'll go paint a while, _mio cucino bene._"

Lovino didn't answer, still preoccupied with his own concerns, and Arthur left the kitchen.

Dammit. What the hell was he supposed to do? He'd have to force himself to act normally! He took a few deep breaths, removing the saucepan from the heat and checking the oven temperature. This was so fucking frustrating.

…

In an hour everything was cooked and ready to eat, so Lovino braced himself and went in search of Arthur, firmly deciding not to mention the wedding invitation yet, not until he'd had time to figure out what to say about it.

The blond was putting some finishing touches on a sketch. "What do you think?" he asked, once Lovino had come into the workroom, showing it to his friend.

Dammit, another sketch of him! Well, this would take his mind off that stupid envelope. He eyed the sketch critically and then punched Arthur in the arm, partly to relieve stress and partly because he was pissed about the sketch. "Why the fuck do you keep drawing me?"

"Be-because you – look good? I just – I – " Arthur faltered. "Well, if you want me to stop, I will. I don't want to upset you." He looked perplexed, and no wonder.

Shit. Lovino was so off-kilter and now he was being cold to Arthur. "Never mind about it, bastard. Just – just never mind," he snapped, running out of the workroom and over to his office, where he closed and locked the door behind him. He really needed to be alone for a while. He didn't know how to act!

Scraping his hands through his hair, and then fixing it, he stalked to his computer and pulled up his email, hoping for a distraction. Ah! Feli had sent him an email. He opened it up and read it – nothing important, just the usual potato bastard panegyric – but it did take his mind off things for a little while.

He sat there, quietly thinking, and then he wondered whether Feli and the potato bastard had ever thought about getting married. On a whim, he looked up Italy's laws on same-sex marriage, but before he even got to the correct page he realized there was no way it could happen. Not with the Catholic Church being located in Rome. The Catholic faction was much too powerful in Italy. Same-sex laws would never be approved.

And, yes, the online research confirmed this. Well, it was a good thing Vash and Roderich lived in Switzerland.

His stomach rumbled. "Dammit!" He'd forgotten about the food! Lovino hurriedly closed his browser and left the office, locking the door behind him, and rushed to the kitchen, where Arthur was calmly eating.

"Hope you don't mind that I started. I didn't want it to go off. Are you all right?"

"D-don't mind me," he managed to say in a somewhat normal tone. "Got a lot to think about." He served himself some food and sat at the table.

"Investments giving you trouble? Or is this really all about my sketch?" Arthur frowned.

"Nh, no, nothing like that. Hey, this stuff goes better with red wine. Mind if I open some?" He stood up again and moved to the wine cabinet.

"Suit yourself, but I'm almost done. I'll pass on the wine." He drank some water.

"All right, bastard. I – uh, have to do a lot of stuff in my office this afternoon, so, I – I – I won't be around much." He knew his face was red, but his hands were now full trying to open the wine bottle, so he just turned away.

"That's fine with me. I'll be in the workroom, unless you have anything you need me to do?" Arthur's voice was lovingly concerned, and Lovino couldn't get the corkscrew out, and he was pissed about the wedding invitation, and by now he just wanted to scream and throw the bottle across the room.

"Dammit. No. Oh, some bills came," he remembered. "Ah! – Uh, oh, forget it." He'd panicked because of the invitation, before remembering it was locked in his desk and not with the bills.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

"Yes, bastard, I'm perfectly sure!" He finally got the cork out and flung the corkscrew across the kitchen, where it left a dent in the wall and then fell to the hardwood floor, leaving another dent. "_Dammit!_"

"I'll just be in my workroom," Arthur said, fleeing the room and leaving his half-eaten meal behind.

Lovino didn't trouble to curse at that. He just sat at the table and drank some wine, ignoring the fucking corkscrew for now. Then he ate a little food.

Then he drank some more wine.

…

"_Ohhh…"_ Lovino woke up in the dark, his head pounding, mouth dry as the fucking desert. "Dammit," he muttered, before catching himself. He didn't want to wake Arthur.

But the blond was not in the bed. Lovino tottered to the bathroom, relieving himself and splashing cool water on his face before taking some painkillers with a tumbler of water. Had he been that much of a bastard, that Arthur hadn't wanted to sleep in the same bed with him tonight? Shit. What the fuck had he _done?_

Wait.

How did he get to the bed? He'd been in the kitchen! Now it was the middle of the night? Well, the first thing he needed to do was apologize to Arthur. Maybe he was sleeping on the parlor sofa.

But when Lovino stepped out of the bedroom, head still pounding, the lights were blazing in Arthur's workroom. Shading his eyes against the light, he crept quietly to the door and peeked in to see his friend sketching something. "Are you all right?" he croaked.

Arthur raised his gaze. "Are _you_?"

"Why are you still awake?" Lovino was sleepy and mighty confused.

"Because it's only 10:30? Why would I be asleep? Normally we don't even go to bed until midnight."

Lovino didn't answer, just leaned weakly against the door jamb. Arthur dropped his sketching materials and came over to him. "Are you sick, or what?" he asked, in a calm and caring voice.

"Dammit, bastard, my head feels like it's going to split open."

"You drank a whole bottle of wine, very quickly. That's why. Sit down." Arthur led him to the old sofa and eased him onto the cushions, taking a seat beside him.

"I did? Why did I – oh, fuck." Now he remembered about the wedding invitation. "Fuck! Ow," he moaned, squeezing his skull.

"Do you need to go to the hospital? Lovino, what's wrong?"

"Argh, no, I'm just hung over, dammit." He punched the cushion and this made his head hurt, and he groaned. "Maybe still a little drunk."

"Please just calm down a little? You're frightening me, and whatever's wrong, let me help you. _Please._" He took Lovino's hand, but didn't try to hug him.

Lovino nodded and bent forward so that his throbbing head was resting on his knees.

"It's nothing I did, right? Not because of that sketch I showed you?"

Lovino shook his head. Very, very carefully, so that it wouldn't crack and let all the pounding blood out. Dammit, one bottle of wine should not have this effect on him! He'd grown up drinking wine constantly in Italy. Well, he'd just have to cut back, that's all.

"Do you want me to turn the lights out?"

"Please," he mumbled.

Arthur took care of the lights and sat back down in the dark. "Now, what the bloody hell are you so worried sick about?"

The brunet took a deep breath. "What makes you think I'm worried?" Maybe he could bluff his way out of it.

"Hah! Well, for starters, you were acting very funny over lunch."

"Uh."

"Then you got drunk and came into my workroom, and started crying, and when I tried to find out why, all you would say was 'I love you, bastard,' and such. Things like 'I just can't do it' and 'But they're so happy.' Crying the whole time. Eventually you passed out, and I carried you over and put you to bed."

Lovino desperately tried to get some fresh air into his lungs. "Come outside with me."

"What?" And then more confused, "_What?"_

"I need some fresh air. Come on; don't make me go out there by myself."

"Are you kidding me? In this condition? I wouldn't even let you go to the kitchen by yourself."

"Drop the fucking booze lecture, bastard. I feel bad enough as it is." He stood up and headed for the door and heard Arthur following.

Outside in the still night air he braced his hands on the railing of the front stoop and took some deep gulping breaths. His head still hurt, but the painkillers had begun to kick in, and he wasn't feeling quite so much like death. "Please help me remember," he asked in a quiet voice.

At this, Arthur came closer and hesitantly put his hand on Lovino's shoulder; the brunet grabbed it and held on tight. "Well. I pretty much just recapped it for you, you know. It wasn't even an hour after I left the kitchen that you passed out."

"Dammit." Lovino rubbed his eyes with his other hand. "I thought my stupid drinking days were over."

"Are you going to tell me what set you off? Or is it private? Not bad news, I hope."

"It's about Vash and Roderich."

"Oh!" Arthur squeezed his hand. "Don't tell me the wedding's off."

Lovino's mind went blank as he stared at Arthur in the light from the street lamp. "Ah – uh – huh?"

"Whoops."

"What do you mean, 'whoops'?" What the fuck was Arthur talking about? "You knew about the wedding?" Ow…

"Er, well, we didn't get the official invitation yet, but…Roderich emailed a couple weeks ago to get our address, because they're getting married and they wanted to mail us an invitation. I – I assumed you knew."

"I do know! I just got the invitation today." Lovino kept staring, and then he burst into laughter, even though his head still hurt. He wrapped his arms around Arthur in relief and felt his friend supporting him. "I'm still the world's biggest ass," he choked out. "Oh, Arthur…so stupid…" He felt tears threatening, so he made himself think about street lamps and hangovers and ibuprofen to focus. "I really can't believe I'm still so fucking stupid after all this time with you."

Arthur held on to him. "Something about their wedding bothers you."

He nodded.

The blond kept his tone light. "Well, they're your friends, so you must be happy for them; I doubt you're harboring a secret crush on either of them."

At this, Lovino snorted and hugged him more tightly.

Arthur continued analyzing. "And since you're so selfish, then, this probably has something to do with you, not with them."

Lovino narrowed his eyes at that, but then nodded again. He was finding it surprisingly easy to admit all this when it was Arthur doing the talking, instead of him having to say it all out loud.

"You're worried you're going to end up lonely and alone? I find that hard to believe." When the Brit said this, Lovino poked him.

"I do too, stupid. No. That wasn't it."

"Aha. Well, the only other thing I can think of is that you hate weddings because they're too social and whatever."

He shook his head. "No. I – come inside, bastard, I feel really stupid talking about this on the front porch."

"Suit yourself."

Once inside on the parlor sofa, in the dark, Lovino took Arthur's hand. "I – panicked."

"Oh?"

"I…don't want to – to –" But he couldn't say it.

"Oh! You were afraid I'd want to get married!" Arthur began laughing loud peals of laughter. "You're bloody hilarious, you know that?"

"Bastard." But he was glad Arthur had spoken the actual words. "Quiet down, please. My head is still killing me."

Arthur obliged, but kept laughing quietly. "Oh, that's too funny. I don't even know what to say."

Lovino began to get a bit irritated. "Are you saying you wouldn't want to marry me?" he demanded, making Arthur laugh even more.

"Ah, hell." He wiped his streaming eyes. "Lovino, I would not ever presume such a thing. You know I'm yours; we're together, and as far as I'm concerned we'll always _be_ together. Right?"

"Well, yes! So what the fuck?"

"I'm not going to try to marry you! The media would be all over you!"

"I know, idiot! That's why I don't want to do it."

This sobered Arthur, surprisingly. Lovino wondered why. And then Arthur said, in a very meek tone, "_That's_ why?"

"Why the hell else?"

"Er."

Dammit, his head hurt, and he wasn't in the mood for guessing games. "The money?"

Arthur nodded. "Well, that, and…I just thought you wouldn't want to – you know – to admit it. To the world. You do all right with friends here and there, but…" His voice faded.

"Bastard." But then Lovino thought about this. "You might be right. I – I'm not ashamed of you, you know, but I don't know what I'd do if people, business contacts or whatever, started saying things like, 'Oh, I just found out you were gay! How fascinating!'" He put his head in his hands. "I just wouldn't know how to handle it."

"But you don't have to worry about it, since I would never presume that far."

"I'm an idiot."

"You've said that before," the blond pointed out.

"It was true then, and it's still true now, bastard. I – I'm sorry I leapt to conclusions about you."

"That's all right." They both leaned against the back of the couch. "So…"

"What now, you might as well ask."

"Are we going to go to their wedding?"

Lovino started laughing a little, but not much, because his head still hurt. "Yes. Let's."

"Okay. Then I only have one more question."

"Hah. What?"

"Are you really upset with me for sketching you?"

Now in a much more placid frame of mind, Lovino tried to give the question some serious thought. And what he came up with was, "The only thing that bothers me is that your works are sometimes for sale, and I don't want to be in an artwork that someone else buys. So – if you really like to sketch me that badly," and here he snorted, but it made his head throb, so he stopped, "ow, if you really do, then that's fine, but…don't do any more paintings with me in them, all right? Unless it's for us to keep in the house."

Arthur shrugged. "I can deal with that. I'm painting a picture of us with Gilbert and Mathias at Great Falls, though. Is that all right? I was going to give it to Gilbert when I was done. And you can't really tell it's us, just random blokes with our hairstyles, climbing on the rocks."

Lovino leaned against him. "Fine. Make your albino bastard happy."

"How's your head?"

"Uh. Getting better, but not completely."

"Want anything? Coffee, medicine, bath, sleep?"

"Already had the medicine. Bath and sleep sounds nice."

"Well, then you should have a bath and sleep! Come on up, I'll draw the water for you. You're sure you're all right, now? Nothing else bothering you?"

"No, you sweet thing. Sorry I'm such a bastard."

"Eh, that's all right. I'm used to it by now."

Lovino punched his arm, feebly, and they headed upstairs together.

…

_I'd like to see Vash in a lavish bridal gown, too. Of course a pistol is not a bride's most fashionable accessory. _


	112. The Custer Fight

**The Custer Fight.** (Charles Marion Russell, lithograph, 1903)

"I've done it," Arthur announced happily one afternoon, bounding into Lovino's little office. "Look! I've done it!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Oh. Well, maybe Lovino wouldn't like it. But Arthur was terrifically pleased. "I designed a tattoo!"

"Oh! Bring it here, let me see."

Together they checked out the design Arthur had come up with. "Is it too silly?"

"Bastard, it's adorable."

"Well, this is what I mean! Is it too twee to have put on our bodies?"

Lovino paused before answering. "I have no actual problem with koi, you know, so that part is all right. But a teacup, with a tomato on it, with a koi peeking out of the teacup? It's adorable, bastard, but I don't know if I want to have that on my body."

"You may be right. I thought it was nice because it captured so much of us, but, yeah. I'm just imagining Gilbert looking at it. The wanker would laugh his head off. All right, it's back to the drawing board."

"Maybe we shouldn't bother. I mean, not bother having you design one. Since you're having so much trouble coming up with something."

Arthur ruffled his hair. "I'll keep working on it. It's not like we need to decide right this minute." He peered at the computer screen. "How's business?"

"Whatever. The usual. We should be ready to make the changeover at the firm next month."

"Oh, that's good; we can combine it with the Vash and Roderich trip."

"Good idea, bastard. I hadn't even thought that far ahead."

"Want me to make the travel arrangements?"

"Sure. Give us at least a week in each place. No sense rushing things."

"Got it. Right, well, I'll leave this sketch with you, so you can look at it and think of me."

"Idiot. I'm always thinking of you."

Arthur bent down to kiss him, smiling, and Lovino removed his glasses for this. "Mm. Can I make travel arrangements later?"

The brunet laughed. "Save it, bastard. Go do some work."

"Yes, boss."

…

Later, Arthur brought in the mail. "Some stuff for you," he said absently, as Lovino brought lunch to the table. The brunet had, in fact, started attending a local cooking school (despite Arthur's assertions that he needed no such thing), and now their meals were peppered with exotic dishes, sometimes accompanying much more prosaic items. Today's specialty was linguine with sea urchins in a cilantro dressing, and toast. Arthur, unused to such things, always ate heroically of the strange dishes, and more often than not he really liked them. Sea urchins, though, he wasn't sure about. He set the mail at Lovino's chair and sat down in his own. "Smells good."

"Well, I've got to try it. If I can make you like it, hell, that's the mark of success."

"Wanker. Are we having wine with lunch?" After last week he'd been afraid to ask such a thing, but Lovino had purchased a wine dispenser, which kept opened bottles fresh, so neither of them felt pressure to finish up an opened bottle. Lovino had been quite serious and sober about not drinking for a few days, but now that they had the dispenser, everything was back to normal.

"Sure. Pour out some of the white."

Arthur did as bidden while Lovino served them each a portion of linguine. "Please be honest with me about the food," he said nervously, as the blond brought the wine back to the table.

"You know I will. I – er – sea urchin, though," he said, making a face, causing Lovino to laugh.

"Just try a little. Okay? That's all I ask."

"Of course."

There was a small silence while they began to eat, and Arthur could tell that Lovino was very carefully not trying to pressure him into anything, because he was looking all around the room, everywhere but at Arthur.

The blond closed his eyes to savor the taste, to see if sea urchin was as bizarre as it sounded. "It's tasty. I just can't tell if I'm obsessing over the sea urchin or not."

"Don't worry about it. Just eat. If you don't puke then I'll know it was all right."

Arthur laid down his fork. "You know, I really appreciate how bloody caring and concerned you can be."

"You should know I'm not going to change by now."

"I never asked you to!" Arthur drank a little wine. "Read your mail. Stop watching me eat."

"Bastard. I'm not _watching you eat._" But Lovino picked up the mail, and read it, and Arthur was able to eat in peace for a few minutes, until – "Fuck. Maybe we _should_ get married." He threw an envelope on the table.

Arthur burst out laughing. "That's got to be the most romantic proposal in the entire history of proposals." He kept laughing and Lovino scowled at him.

"That wasn't what I meant, stupid. We got another wedding invitation. We're going to be the only unmarried ones left!"

"Blast. It's a good thing I have all those nice French suits. Whose is it this time? No – wait – don't tell me." Arthur drank some more wine, thinking about all the people they knew that might be getting married. "Er – Feli and Ludwig? They're the only ones I can think of. Surely it can't be Gilbert and Mathias."

"Hah, no. No, Feli and Ludwig wouldn't be able to get married unless they moved out of Italy." He explained the Italian laws and the pressure the Church put on the government. "No, this is from Williams."

"Williams? Williams," Arthur mused. "Don't know who that is."

"Forgetful bastard. He's the guy that bought the gallery."

"Oh! That Williams. Er."

"Er what?"

"Alfred's brother," Arthur sighed. "He's like a curse. Keeps coming back to haunt me."

"Yeah, well, at least you can gracefully ignore him now. Anyway, I'm not even sure I want to go to this one."

"I didn't realize the two of you were that close."

"We're not! I never even heard of him until he approached me about the gallery, and after we finished the transaction I never heard from him again!" Lovino picked up the wedding paperwork and flicked through it again, looking for a clue.

"Maybe he just couldn't think of anyone else to invite."

"Now who's being caring and concerned? Bastard."

Arthur grinned. "But you know that wasn't what I meant."

"Yeah, I know." He flipped the envelope upside-down and a note fell out. "Oh. Hold on." He read it and his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Ha ha!"

"What? What is it?" Arthur had polished off all his food and rose to take his plate to the sink.

"Well, my dearest, it seems that Williams is inviting me because he is very thankful for having bought the gallery; apparently he got engaged to his fiancée there."

"That gallery's like the bloody Love Boat!" At this, both of them started laughing. "Wonder if they did it on the new desk?" Arthur then wondered, making Lovino snort.

"Here's a picture of them. Huh. She's cute. Looks a little familiar, too, but I don't recog—_oh._"

"Uh-oh. That's worrying." He came back and sat down.

"She's got the same last name as Natalia. I wonder if they could be sisters? She never said she had a sister."

"Wonder if she's still hanging around with Alfred," Arthur mused. "Maybe we should go to this wedding just to find out."

"Who knew you were such a nosy bastard? You want to suffer through a stranger's wedding just to spy on them? Remind me never to do anything to incite your curiosity." Lovino actually moved his chair a little way away from Arthur's, grinning.

"Whatever. Do you want to go or not? When is it? Maybe we'll be in Europe at the time and it won't matter."

"Nope. Three months from now. Well, what the hell, I'll send it back and say yes, and if we don't feel like going I'll just send him a gift."

"I suppose we're going to have to keep the boyfriend stuff to a minimum, if we go," the blond sighed, putting his chin in his hand.

"Yes."

"Except Alfred already knows."

"True, but he's only one guest. I assume he's going to his brother's wedding."

"Maybe you should go by yourself." Arthur began fiddling with the stem of his empty wine glass.

But Lovino misunderstood this. "What? Why?"

"It's going to be difficult for you. To be there with me, I mean. A wedding isn't typically the kind of event you should take a colleague to, is it? So probably everybody there would be trying to spy on us, too. I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Sweet thing. Maybe you're right. Let's forget about it for now. Let me finish eating and then we can go do something fun."

"All right."

Just then the phone rang and Arthur hastened to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hello. Yes, we're fine, and you?...Yes…Oh! That's good news. Is there any information on the internet?" _Laurinaitis,_ he mouthed to Lovino, whose eyes widened. Arthur grabbed a pen and paper. "Yes, go ahead." He scribbled some notes. "Very good. We'll look them both up and be in touch in a few days…Of course. Thank you." He hung up and brought the note to the table.

"Wineries, I'm assuming."

"Yep. Two of them. One has been on and off the market for the last four years; it's as if the owners can't really decide whether they want to sell or not. The other is run by a business conglomerate that bought it, whipped it into shape, and is now trying to sell it for twice what they paid." He made a face. "Sounds mercenary, if you ask me."

"Don't jump to conclusions. It might be worth it. Depends what kind of improvements they made, and how much they inflated the cost." Lovino was done eating by now, so he put the plates in the dishwasher. "Go look them up. I'll be up once the kitchen is clean."

"Right!" Arthur fled up the stairs.

…

"It's early yet," Lovino pointed out, when they'd looked at the winery information online. "Want to go for a spin? A little informal reconnaissance?"

"Sure. You driving?"

"Hah. All right, bastard, but just this once. Since you were so cool about the fake proposal." They shared a grin and kiss before leaving.

…

_No particular reason for choosing this artwork, except it was today's Featured Picture on Wikipedia._

_9/27/13: Finally came up with a tattoo design for them. It's my new avatar, and you can see it full-sized on my dA account._


	113. The Burial of the Sardine

**The Burial of the Sardine. **(Francisco Goya, oil on wood, 1810)

Lovino woke up and stretched. Arthur had gone off to run errands today; the brunet had permitted himself to sleep late. He lay in a little dozy state of mind for a few minutes, allowing himself to gradually slide into full consciousness, seeing the bright sunlight peeking through the curtains, hearing a bit of birdsong in the late summer air above the sound of local traffic.

Mm, he loved his life right now. Other than all the fucking wedding invitations! Hah. But – he felt so content. Even the ongoing search for a home and/or business was kind of pleasant to deal with. He and Arthur had so much pure _fun_ together, no matter what they were doing, and he felt so at peace.

Though he wasn't about to turn into some fucking sap about it.

And then he turned his head to glance at Arthur's side of the bed, and smiled, and then rolled over there to hug Arthur's pillow and think about him, cheeks burning as he pushed his face into the pillow. Okay. So he was a fucking sap. But nobody would ever really know. Arthur might guess, but –

Then he got up and opened the curtains. It really was a nice day, though it seemed like it might be fairly hot out. Alexandria in August wasn't the gentlest climate in the world. Lovino snorted and got back into Arthur's side of the bed again, this time lying on his back and pulling up the sheet.

Yesterday they'd gone on that drive to see the two wineries Laurinaitis had found for them. One – the one where the owners apparently couldn't make up their minds about selling – had a lot of promise. It was a very small winery which grew more grapes than it could process. Lovino, with his experience, felt that with a bit of work, it could be upgraded to deal with its full production possibility and turn into a serious local contender. But the buildings were very small, the focus was not on tourism, and there was no house on the property.

The property was large, though, and they might be able to build a house.

Lovino spent some time now in an architectural daydream, snuggling under the soft cotton sheet, imagining what a home designed by his artistic lover might look like. Hah, he'd probably want to put koi and dragon gargoyles all over it!

But, you know…maybe that would be kind of nice. Unique, certainly.

He rolled over and hugged the pillow again and decided to mention this to Arthur when he came home. Of course they'd need to work with architects to design it properly, but that wouldn't be much of a problem. And he knew that he, too, would enjoy working on something like that. He'd need to find out from Laurinaitis how much land was part of that property, how much was buildable, before they'd bother going to look at it as buyers.

The other winery – bought and improved by a conglomerate – well, yes. It had looked exactly like a winery that had been improved by a conglomerate! It was very modern and up-to-date and poised to be a bigger producer than it was. There was a modern-style home which Arthur had liked very much (as much as they could see from the outside), and a small river ran through the property, which was surprising and pleasant. But the house was nowhere near the river, and this place was already at maximum production, unless he bought more vineyards for growing. He didn't really know anything about the Virginia grape-growing climate yet and supposed that any new vineyards would have to be fairly far away, as he'd mentioned to Arthur once. For one thing, there wasn't too much undeveloped land left, even out as far as Middleburg.

The one thing that was slightly troubling to him was staffing. Oh, he could hire some kind of human resources/legal specialist to help him with that, but he always felt like he needed someone he trusted on site. This had been one of the reasons he'd never been quite content about the French winery he'd sold. The staff had all been in place, and while they were dedicated to their work, he'd never clicked with any of them. Bastards.

Lovino spent some time thinking about a day he'd had a fight with Feli. A really bad fight. They'd just graduated from the university, and in his youthful arrogance he'd offered his old friend a sinecure post as the manager of the hotel in Rome. He bit his lip now, remembering that; he'd been so naïve that he had seriously thought Feli would take a high-paying, do-nothing job like that, just to help Lovino. Which was completely asinine once he'd had a chance to think about it. It was patronizing and insulting. No wonder Feli had yelled at him. That had been fucking _scary._ Feliciano, by then, had been his only real friend, and he'd been so angry that Lovino had feared the loss of their lifelong friendship.

Well, he wouldn't make that mistake again. He hugged the pillow a little more tightly and his thoughts flowed back towards staffing issues. Maybe he should offer the albino bastard the manager's job. Ha. That was an equally stupid idea.

Though Gilbert _had_ said it sounded like fun.

But no. Fun wouldn't do it. He needed someone who could focus and do the business end of work, too. Well, that was kind of a shame. He didn't mind Gilbert so much, now that he'd gotten to know him better, and thinking back, the only two objections he'd really had to the albino were that he'd recognized the name 'Vargas' and gotten that predatory look in his eye, and also that Lovino had been jealous of his relationship with Arthur. Well, the bastard had been pretty lax about the rich-man-Vargas thing, and he really hadn't had a romantic relationship with Arthur, so…there was nothing to object to, now.

Except his boundless exuberance, which could be tiring at times.

Maybe that would be good, for a winery manager? Certainly Gilbert was more of a people person than Lovino was. Hah.

Of course thinking about Gilbert led him to think of Mathias. Too bad he lived in Paris. _He_ seemed much cooler-headed than Gilbert. But – a dentist as a winery manager? No, too fucking stupid again.

Resting his head on Arthur's pillow, Lovino thought about Gilbert and Mathias and all the fun they'd had during the Dane's visit.

Eventually he fell asleep again.

When he woke up it was near noon, and a grinning Arthur was lying on Lovino's side of the bed reading. "_Buongiorno, amato_. Is my pillow as nice to hug as I am?"

Blushing, Lovino decided to bluff his way out of this. "Uh. How did I end up on your side of the bed?"

Arthur grabbed him and held him close. "Because you missed me, sentimental wanker, and wanted to hug me. Right?"

"I'm such a transparent fucker."

"But it suits you so well," Arthur laughed, and Lovino poked him. "Did you think about the wineries at all?"

Lovino pushed himself into a sitting position. "Yeah. Now…I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest, and not say what you think I want to hear. Just tell me your opinion. All right?"

"Go ahead."

"Did you have a clear preference? Assuming those two are our only choices?" He wanted to see whether Arthur really loved that modernist shit.

The blond raised his eyebrows. "Well. There were pros and cons to both."

"A straight answer, dammit, that's all I'm asking for!"

"All right, all right. Well, I – I kind of liked the first one better. The little one. The conglomerate one, it felt very – eh, I don't know, too polished and slick. The other one seemed more…comfortable? But I guess that's not really what you're looking for in a business. Plus it didn't have a house. I guess we could still live here and drive out there?" By now Arthur had stopped grinning at his friend and was staring at the ceiling. "Anyway, that's my straight answer. What's yours?"

"Similar kind of thinking process. And – I also thought maybe we could design our own home and build it out there."

Lovino nearly fell off the bed as Arthur tackled him in a big hug. "You're joking! That would be so, so massively wonderful! Awesome, as Gilbert would say. Are you serious?"

Laughing, Lovino pushed him aside. "Yes, of course I'm serious. As long as there's enough buildable land." He went on to explain his thoughts about renovating and bringing it up to its full potential. "What I really like about it is that we're not in a rush to start producing, so we could take our time, build the house and upgrade the facilities, and start marketing –"

"– ugh –"

"– and maybe launch it in a year or two. The other one is so up-to-date that there really wouldn't be anything to do except take over and keep producing, which is one of the reasons I didn't like it. With the smaller one, we could develop it into our own unique place. And we could change the name, too."

"Not the bloody Kirkland-Vargas Winery!"

Lovino smirked at him. "How about Arthur and Lovino's?"

"Are you nuts? That sounds like some kind of dodgy Mafia pub."

"Yes, all right. We'll come up with something. Call Laurinaitis. Get what real information you can, and if it checks out, we'll go see it."

Arthur hopped off the bed and dashed to the telephone. "Get out of bed, lazy git!" he called over his shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up, bastard!"

…

Laurinaitis had scanned and emailed all the real estate information he could find on the smaller winery, which was actually not on the market at the current time. "Will that be a problem?" Arthur asked, hovering over Lovino's shoulder.

"Are you kidding? If I hold out a wad of cash, you think they'll say no?" Lovino pushed his glasses up and looked over the information one more time. "That absolutely will not be a problem."

"What will you do about the current staff? If we're going to do all this renovating?"

"Good point. Well, maybe I'll just shut down and rehire new staff when we're ready to go. I mean, these people can't be that great, or the winery would be doing better. They would have made the money to expand and produce more."

"Maybe they chose to invest it elsewhere."

"Well, that's exactly what I'm saying! If they didn't choose to make improvements to the business or the property, they're not good businesspeople. Anyway, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Everything checks out on paper. Did he say when he could go out there with us?"

"Tomorrow or Saturday. He's got an open house in the city on Friday."

"All right. Either one of them works for me; what about you and your lessons?"

"Eh," Arthur said, considering, "_Non ho lezioni di sabato._" (1)

_"Bene, allora, lo chiamano e fissare un appuntamento per sabato!" _(2)

"God, I love it when you get all Italian," Arthur growled. "Come back to bed."

_"Se promettete di chiamarlo quando abbiamo finito."_ (3)

"Forget the bed," Arthur laughed. "Get your kit off right here."

"Bastard. The bed, or it's not happening. I refuse to make love to you on the floor of my office."

"Fine," Arthur yelled, halfway down the hall already. "Get over here!"

...

_(1) "I don't have classes on Saturday."_

_(2) "Well, then, call him and make an appointment for Saturday!"_

_(3) "If you promise to call him when we're done."_

_All thanks to Microsoft Translator, so I apologize for any errors._


	114. Le Dejeuner

**Le Dejeuner.** (François Boucher, oil on canvas, 1739)

Arthur was having a nightmare. He was in beastly hot water, and he was drowning, unable to catch his breath; a squid tangled its tentacles in his hair, yanking and tugging on them as he tried to scream and failed.

He awoke with a start, fighting for breath, and found Lovino sitting on his stomach, running his hands through Arthur's hair. "Your hair's out of control," the brunet said with a grin. "And good morning."

"Good? Good? What's good about it?" He shoved Lovino off him and sat upright. "Bloody hell."

Now Lovino looked concerned. "What's the matter?"

"Nh. Nightmare." He snorted, gulping for air.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"Just don't sit on me any more, wanker. All right?"

"Whatever." Lovino got off the bed and headed to the hotel bathroom. "What are your plans for the day?"

Arthur stretched. "Nothing, really. Paint, most likely, or whatever." He flopped back onto the bed, still trying to catch his breath.

"Sounds good." Lovino shut the bathroom door.

They were in Italy for the finalization of the changeover from race cars to street cars. Lovino had been meeting with lawyers and his employees all week. On Friday, he was to give a press conference announcing the switch, and the first person on his years-long waiting list would be publicly announced. But for today, he was due to meet with factory inspectors to ensure the proper codes were being met, or something, and Arthur was going to putter around the city.

"Is there anything you want me to get while I'm out?" he called out.

Lovino came back into the bedroom. "No. Just find someplace you want to go for dinner."

"Me?" Arthur squeaked. "You should choose."

"Bastard, you've been making me choose restaurants all week. Just man up and pick a place!"

"Wha – buh – but you're so finicky. What if I pick a bad place?" Arthur was almost in a panic at this idea.

But Lovino laughed at him. "Then we'll eat there and mark it off the list and I'll never let you choose again. All right?"

Arthur finally settled down and started to smile. "All right, agreed. When do you want to meet?" He rolled over towards where Lovino was now sitting on the bed putting socks on. "And why were you sitting on me, anyway?" He trailed a finger up and down the back of the crisp white dress shirt.

"Wanted to play around, but you weren't in the mood. Stop tickling me."

"Blast. I would have been happy to, but you made me have a nightmare!" He explained what the dream had been about.

"Sorry. Next time I'll just tease you awake softly."

"Right, and then I'll dream about a squid playing with me – my – er –"

Laughing, the brunet bent over and gave him a kiss, ruffling his hair. "I have to get going. Have a good day; meet me here at, oh, four?"

"Yessir."

"Bastard." Lovino grabbed his briefcase and left the room.

…

While wandering, Arthur caught sight of himself in a shop window. Bollocks, Lovino was right. His hair _was_ out of control. How had it gotten so long? He stood facing the window, running his hands through it, trying to make it look better, and couldn't.

Then he realized the shop window was right next to a hair salon.

Now, Arthur had always avoided places like this, preferring down-to-earth barbers. Salons seemed much too flouncy for him. But there was a man inside having his hair styled, and Arthur really did need to do something about this.

Eh, why not? He'd have an Italian stylist give him a new look, and surprise Lovino at dinnertime.

…

Arthur was not normally a vain man, either, but he loved this new look, and kept admiring himself surreptitiously in windows all the way back to the hotel. Even other pedestrians seemed to be admiring it. He tried to avoid their gazes, not certain whether his Italian was yet good enough to make small talk with strangers.

He spotted a little restaurant that looked quite nice – and if the prices on the menu were any indicator, it would be classy enough for Lovino – so he noted the address and headed back to the hotel to change into a suit.

He chose one of his French suits. Not wanting to shower and ruin the careful coif, he simply freshened up and dressed, continuing to grin at his stylish reflection in the mirror.

Arthur decided to wait in the lobby for Lovino; there was no reason to sit around the hotel room. His friend would be here in about twenty minutes anyway. He could intercept him there, and if Lovino wasn't too tired, they could go out right now, maybe just for a walk, since it was much too early for dinner.

Seated in the lobby, Arthur leafed idly through a magazine on Italian architectural trends, daydreaming about their winery. A whirlwind meeting with Laurinaitis had left Lovino convinced that this property could be spectacular, could become a world-class winery, eventually. It had much more land than either of them had imagined, land that could actually be used for grape-growing, as well as for the house they planned to design.

They hadn't actually been able to tour the property yet, because of the trip. Arthur (as usual) had panicked, but Lovino reminded him that the winery wasn't actually on the market. They didn't expect that anyone would snap it up in their absence. And if someone did, the brunet had pointed out, well, it just wasn't meant to be, and they'd keep looking.

Arthur had been dreaming of home design ideas, but hadn't had a chance to sit down and work on it much, because of this trip. As soon as Lovino was done with the changeover, they would have to head to Zurich for the wedding. Busy, busy, busy. He had been collecting architecture magazines, though, and making mental notes of ideas. This particular magazine had a feature on Rococo designs and showed some very striking things.

He snorted. Their home was going to look like a circus, if Lovino let him design it! Every time he picked up a book, or saw a notable building, he wanted to add different elements to the home. So far he'd passed through Neoclassical, Baroque, modernist (which he knew Lovino despised), and craftsman styles, and now Rococo. But they were all so nice!

Maybe they could do each room in a different style. Hah. "I'll meet you in the Rococo Room," he imagined himself saying, and broke out laughing.

Mm, and here came Lovino, with the purposeful step he always used when he was not too tired. He strode into the lobby, smiled at the concierge, and scanned the room, the vague smile still on his face. When his eyes met Arthur's, the blond grinned, but Lovino continued on his trajectory to the stairwell and ignored him.

"Eh?" Arthur said aloud. "Lovino!" he called.

The brunet turned his head quickly; his unseeing glance swept past his friend again, and he began to walk up the stairs.

What the hell? Arthur got off the couch and followed him. "Lovino! Why are you running away from me?"

Lovino stumbled on the landing and turned. "B-bastard?" he stuttered, his eyes widening, and then he lowered his voice. "You – you –"

"You like my new look? Oh," Arthur realized. "You didn't even recognize me!" He started laughing and Lovino hurriedly shushed him.

"Shut up. What the hell happened?"

"You don't like it? I – you were right about my hair being a mess. I got a haircut. Why, does it look bad?"

Lovino laughed. "No. It looks fine. It just – just doesn't look like _you._ Too polished, or something." He reached up and ruffled it up a bit. "There. That's better."

"Git! Now I'm going to look bad at dinner." Arthur tried to fix his hair.

"Oh. I didn't even notice you were wearing a suit. You found a place?" They moved to the side of the stair landing to allow other guests to pass them.

"Yes, but now I have to go fix my hair. Come upstairs." Arthur led the way.

"It looks perfectly fine like this; it looks more like you. The other way you looked like some generic male model."

The blond stopped right in front of the hotel room door without moving to open it. "Eh?"

"Eh what?"

"Don't make fun of me," Arthur snapped, reddening, unlocking the door and storming into the room.

"What are you talking about?" Lovino threw his briefcase on the bed and followed his friend to the mirror.

"Male model, my arse. Stop talking that way. I know I'm not – not very attractive, with these blasted eyebrows, but you don't have to rub it in."

Lovino blinked. "Arthur, you're the best-looking man I've ever seen," he said, gently and quite clearly.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Arthur didn't trust himself to say anything. Could that be true? Of course it would only be because Lovino was biased, because he cared about Arthur. Not that Arthur was literally the best-looking man he'd ever seen.

But Lovino had that very serious expression on his face: a slight frown, his head slightly tilted in confusion, and that endearing blush on his cheeks. "You do know that, don't you?" the brunet murmured. "You're not playing coy?"

"N-no! I – I never thought – " Arthur didn't quite know what to say.

"Sweet thing," Lovino murmured, his face relaxing into a smile. He walked up behind Arthur and slid his arms around him, amber eyes locked on emerald in the mirror. "You're an exceedingly attractive man."

"You're biased," Arthur blurted out.

"Maybe so," and that quiet admission said more for Lovino's sincerity than any other words might have done. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable about it. But I love to look at you, every day, your smiles, or when you're daydreaming or painting; really, anytime at all. You look very, very good, to me, and I wouldn't lie about that."

"People don't say that kind of thing to me." Arthur dropped his gaze, staring at the television remote on the dresser.

"What, _ever?_" Lovino sounded so flummoxed that the blond looked into the mirror again. The brunet shook his head. "You've been hanging out with a bunch of classless bastards, Arthur."

This made him smile. He turned, still in Lovino's embrace, and kissed him. "I'm glad you think I look good," he whispered. "Now let me fix my bloody hair so everyone else will think so too."

Their lips met once more before Lovino allowed him to step back. "Let me do it," he offered, reaching his hands up and teasing the hair back into its new style. He tilted his head again, considering it. "I don't know. It's stylish, I'll grant you, but...I like the fluffy way just a little bit better."

"You'll get used to it," Arthur told him, finishing up. "Come on. Let's go for a walk before dinner."

"All right." Lovino took his hand and led him from the room.

...

The next morning was Friday. "You're coming to the press conference, right, bastard?"

"Yes." Arthur stretched and yawned. "Two o'clock, right?"

"Yeah. Just remember to wear a suit." Lovino got out of the bed and stretched.

"How could I forget?" Arthur followed him into the bathroom, where they took turns jockeying for position at the sink. Lovino brushed his teeth while Arthur used a comb to force his hair into the new style again.

Soon they were both dressed – Lovino in his suit, Arthur temporarily in casual clothes, with his paint box and architectural magazine under his arm – and headed downstairs to get a quick breakfast.

"Got any good ideas?" Lovino asked, sipping espresso, gesturing towards the magazine.

"Hell, yes, a thousand or more good ideas, but they're all incompatible. If I design this house that's in my mind, they're going to end up calling it Vargas' Folly."

"If you design it, bastard, they'd better call it Kirkland's Folly. Nothing to do with me."

"Git."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Arthur explained his confusion. He felt like a cat distracted by shiny things left and right. "I just don't know what to do! Everything is so different and beautiful."

"Well, why don't we do each building a different style? We're going to need to revamp the customer building. The bones of the place are good, but the interior needs a major overhaul. I want to expand the caves for tours, eventually; you could go wild in there. And then, too, I thought of putting up a separate building – a cottage, like an old-fashioned gatekeeper's lodge – someplace that our friends could stay, if they wanted, without having to encroach on our privacy. You could be completely whimsical with something like that, since nobody would have to live there permanently."

"That's _so_ encouraging."

"Ah, bastard, you know what I meant."

"Yes, I know. I'm planning to sit down and sketch some ideas today before I come see you."

"Good. Keep me posted." Lovino set his cup down. "I have to haul ass. I'll see you at the factory."

"Have a good day, dear," Arthur smirked, blowing him a kiss.

Lovino blushed and scowled. "Will you stop that shit?" But when Arthur started laughing, he did too.

...

The day was a bit windy, for August, and Arthur had to keep setting down his paintbrush to fix his hairdo. Blast it, who would have thought a hairstyle needed so much work? After the fourth or fifth time (he'd lost count), he just decided to leave it, and fix it after he showered.

Which reminded him, it was getting a little late. He packed up his things, grabbed a cup of coffee and a couple biscotti from a nearby cafe, and hustled back to the hotel.

...

"Bloody _hell!_" he yelled at his reflection. It was almost time for him to leave, but he wasn't even dressed yet; he couldn't get his stupid hair to look right. In frustration he shoved a comb through it one last time and pulled his suit out of the closet to dress.

Well, he didn't need to rush. He needed to slow down, or he'd end up doing something brainless like wearing a suit without a tie, or a jacket without a shirt! Arthur took a deep breath and calmed himself before finishing up, checking his reflection, and leaving the hotel. He knew his hair would look bad, but – well, it was windy; maybe people would attribute it to that. And he'd wanted to look so nice...he knew the media would be there, and while he wasn't an attention-seeker, he didn't want to embarrass Lovino in any way.

Ah. He'd stand well away from the media people, that's all.

...

"Mr. Thomas Staunton, of London, will be the recipient of the first automobile produced for the public," Lovino announced, standing on the exterior steps of the factory's showroom building. The older man shook his hand; the two of them smiled as flashbulbs went off and bystanders applauded.

In the back of the crowd, Arthur relaxed; the press conference was almost over, and had gone quite well. He knew Lovino had spotted him, but the brunet had remained focused. Arthur shivered a little with pride; he was so happy to have such a multifaceted lover, who surprised him so often with his different personality styles. He smiled and absently reached a hand up to fiddle with his hair, then stopped himself. He'd have to practice with it a little more, before he could get it to be perfect, but he didn't want to look like some vain goon standing around here fixing it. He'd try again later, in the privacy of the hotel room.

The conference had ended while he'd been daydreaming, and the crowd began to disperse. Lovino spoke briefly to Mr. Staunton, shaking his hand again, before walking over to where Arthur stood. "Well? How did I do?" he grinned.

"Perfection as always." Arthur scanned the area to make certain he wouldn't be overheard. "Remind me to cover you with kisses tonight as a reward."

"I like that idea. Plus," and Lovino eyed his hair critically, "I'm very glad you went back to the old style. You look adorable this way. I just want to rub my hands in your fluffy hair and snuggle up to you." He elbowed Arthur with a subtle smile and gestured towards the parking lot, where a cab waited. They headed towards it.

Well, what the hell. He'd keep his old hairstyle. Since Lovino liked it so much.

...

_Partially inspired by the episode where England dresses up all suave in Italy, and is caught by Germany because he's not paying attention to the pretty women like a real Italian would._


	115. The Arnolfini Wedding

**The Arnolfini Wedding.** (Jan van Eyck, oil on panel, 1434)

"Your Roderich looks so dramatic," Arthur whispered, smiling. Lovino elbowed him. "Both of them do."

The civil service was taking place on a chartered boat on Lake Zurich. Vash – not in a bridal gown, of course – wore a white tuxedo and probably had a crystal-studded pistol in his underarm holster. Lovino repressed a snort. Roderich wore a deep bluish-purple tuxedo which matched his eyes, and he was positively beaming.

Lovino always admired how aristocratic Roderich could appear. He put everyone else to shame, even in a weird tux like that.

The crowd was not large, but everyone was festive and happy, milling around the boat with champagne flutes in hand, talking to the other guests. Other than themselves, there were Roderich's parents, Vash's aunt and mother (his father had divorced her, acrimoniously, years ago, and Vash had never spoken of him beyond that tidbit of information), the other members of Roderich's musical ensemble, some government people, and – surprising Lovino beyond measure – Vash's school roommate Berwald.

In school he had always been frightened of the big, taciturn Swede, who gave the impression of analyzing your soul (and finding you lacking) while he stared and didn't speak. Lovino wasn't much more comfortable now than then, trying to maintain his composure as the unusual blue-green eyes glinted at him from behind Berwald's glasses. But what had surprised Lovino the most was that Berwald had introduced his companion, a slight young Finnish man named Tino, as his wife!

Lovino still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of same-sex marriage. And yet it seemed everyone he knew was doing it. Well, times were changing, it was true, but he was still quite thankful that he and Arthur had put this topic behind them. He squeezed Arthur's hand surreptitiously and felt the answering squeeze.

He gave him the once-over, now, and smiled. Arthur had forced his hair into the Italian style this morning, wanting to look good for Lovino's friends; of course the wind had blown it all out of style almost immediately. In his favorite French suit, the blond looked very devil-may-care, his green eyes shining in the sun. Lovino felt very happy.

Vash spoke his vows first, quietly, but still loud enough for all to hear. "Roderich, you have been my closest friend for so long; you have always kept my – my heart safe in your hands. I am – am happy to honor our love with these vows. I make it my mission to l-love and protect you, to keep you first in my heart, all the days of my life."

Arthur sniffed and squeezed again. Vash was burning red; Lovino smiled a little at that. _He_ was certainly not tearing up.

Roderich spoke his vows much more boldly. "Since the first day I saw you, Vash, none other has claimed my heart. I give you the promise of my love, to stand by you, support you and care for you, as long as we both shall live."

Arthur let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Lovino was almost afraid to look at him – not that he could see clearly at the moment. He blinked rapidly a few times. Ah, much better. Being in the bright sun always made his eyes water. He dared to look at Arthur, who was now pressing the spread fingers of his free hand into his eye sockets. Lovino squeezed his hand again, and thought about boats and lakes.

He missed the next part of the ceremony, and was brought back to the moment by the crowd breaking up and moving to congratulate the newly-wedded pair. Deciding to wait until the guests had dispersed a bit, he drew Arthur off to the side. "You all right?"

"Oh, bloody hell, weddings always make me – make me – especially – ah, never mind." Arthur put a very fierce expression on his face, which made Lovino smile and took away his anxieties.

"Man up, loverboy. We have to go congratulate them. You don't want Vash to shoot you for making a spectacle at his wedding, do you?" Both of them let out little laughs at that.

"Got it." Arthur made one more sniff and they turned back.

"Thank you so much for traveling to join us," Roderich told Lovino, embracing him, as Vash and Arthur shook hands with embarrassed smiles.

"I wouldn't have missed it," Lovino replied. (Somehow – even on the day they'd first met – he could never manage to make himself call Roderich "bastard." But he wouldn't have said that on someone's wedding day, anyway.) "It was very – very moving. I'm happy for you." He turned to shake hands with Vash, and Arthur embraced Roderich.

The Austrian gave them a funny look – and Lovino knew exactly what he was thinking, dammit – but Roderich was too polite to say anything. "Have you found a place to settle, yet?" he asked instead.

They were the last two who had come forward to offer congratulations; everyone else was breaking into small groups, so Vash led them towards the buffet. Surprisingly, it was rather extravagant. But, Lovino supposed, even these two noted tightwads would want their wedding day to be lavish. He almost laughed aloud, reaching for a fondue fork.

Arthur beamed. "Lovino is going to purchase a winery in Virginia," he explained. "Both as a business and a place for us to live."

Vash seemed surprised. "So, not Europe, then?"

As they picked delicacies from the buffet table, Lovino explained why they were going to stay in that area. "I'll let you know when we're ready for visitors. We'd love to have you."

_Chigi!_ Why the hell had he said that? And yet, Arthur was nodding in agreement, and the newlyweds had intrigued looks on their faces. Well, what the fuck; he might as well roll with it.

Berwald and Tino approached. "Very nice," the Swede said.

"It was lovely! I hope you get a lot of nice presents," Tino bubbled.

"It's not the gifts, you know," Vash pointed out – although Lovino knew he did love getting gifts – "but we are happy to have you with us this day." He took Roderich's hand in his, very briefly.

"But I love giving presents!" Tino was very enthusiastic, and Berwald laid a hand on his shoulder. Perhaps he was trying to calm his "wife" down.

"Choosing gifts is always fun," Arthur agreed. Lovino had asked him to paint something unusual for the happy couple. He'd done a painting in what Lovino now thought of as his "new watercolor" style, a painting of Großes Seehorn, a mountain on the border between Switzerland and Austria. Lovino had also purchased several cases of wine from his former winery, looking forward to the day when they would be able to give Kirkland-Vargas wines as gifts. (Because he fully intended to call it that, and, dammit, Arthur would just have to deal with it.)

Vash's mother then came over to collar the newlyweds for some photographs. Groups formed and re-formed as people obediently stood to have their pictures taken.

Eventually Lovino and Arthur drifted apart, speaking to separate people. By the time Lovino found himself alone again, Arthur and Berwald were deep in conversation at the bow of the boat.

Lovino watched them. Arthur was so fearless, he realized. Not only because he was talking to Berwald – which required a deal of courage, it's true – but in so many of the things he did. Taking Italian lessons; learning to ride. He simply jumped into things and did them. Like the way he'd so bravely come to America with nothing but a handful of paintings and a heart full of love.

He had to blink a few more times, because the sun was very bright today, dammit.

Later, someone took a picture of Vash and Roderich talking quietly together; Lovino, watching them, felt a rush of peace. He hoped the two newlywed bastards would have a long and joyous life together.

…

'You are so bloody manly," Arthur laughed, back at the hotel.

"What the hell are you talking about now?"

"Why didn't you cry? It was so – so moving." The blond sounded like he was going to start crying again.

Lovino punched him, to make him stop, and then blinked a few times. Damn dusty hotel room. "Don't start now, bastard." He walked to the window and looked out at the setting sun, and thought about traffic.

When he finally decided to turn around, Arthur was out of his suit and in his summer pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the bed and wiping his eyes. "Dammit." Lovino shrugged out of his jacket and flung it on the desk. "Don't."

"Can't help it," Arthur said, in a tiny voice. "Anything romantic makes me like this, now."

Lovino joined him on the bed and put an arm around him. "What do you mean, _now_?"

"Now that I'm with you, you idiotic wanker."

"That's – pretty fucking romantic, I have to admit," Lovino laughed, but Arthur didn't even respond. "You weren't affected like this before we started dating?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Arthur shook his head and sniffed. Lovino hugged him, and they stayed close for a minute.

"I have an idea." The brunet gestured to their hotel bathroom. "Let's get in the tub together." It was a big round Jacuzzi-style tub, bigger than a bathtub but smaller than a hot tub. They hadn't had a chance to use it yet, having arrived late last night. He wanted to cuddle with Arthur anyway, because he was – was feeling a little romantic, too, but now he also wanted to make his friend feel better. "And for one full hour, nothing sexy is permitted."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Arthur looked up, green eyes sparkling with the tears he was fighting so hard to control.

Lovino's heart melted just a little, at that. "Come along, _caro mio._ We will be romantic in the tub, and not do anything sexual. We can be as romantic as you like." He kissed Arthur's cheek.

"O-okay."

They got off the bed and Lovino turned on the water in the tub before coming back out and getting undressed, hanging his suit up carefully.

When he turned around, Arthur was in the water, making little splashes with his hands. "This thing is kind of nice. Different from the tubs we usually play around in."

Lovino rummaged around in the bathroom for the little bottle of freebie hotel shampoo and poured it into the water. "More like a hot tub, I guess." He stepped in and began to sit.

"Will you – will you sit on my lap?" Arthur asked him hesitantly.

Lovino was surprised. "Sure, bastard, I don't mind." Arthur stretched his legs out and Lovino sat down.

"Now, no wriggling around, if we're not allowed to do anything sexy. That wouldn't be fair play." The blond smiled at him.

Lovino wrapped his wet arms around Arthur's neck. "I promise," he murmured, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. He felt the strong arms encircle him and relaxed a little. "Are you too – uh – heartachy to talk about the wedding?"

"I'll be all right." Arthur squeezed him and kissed his hair. "I was just so – so overwhelmed at all the turns my life has taken the last couple of years."

"Me too. I – I was really feeling sentimental," he admitted, "but had to try to fight it."

Arthur sighed. "I know. But at least we're alone now. Don't get mad if I start crying."

Lovino reached over and took one of Arthur's hands, holding it under the water. "You make me so proud," he murmured. "You do so well, socially, and I can only stand there and feel uncomfortable."

"You do well enough," Arthur responded, caressing his hair with a wet hand. "It's not like you're some introverted git who stands in the corner and – and bitches the whole time." He laughed a little. "I'm proud of you, too, you know."

They kissed softly, just once, but Lovino couldn't stand that look of trust and love; he was getting weepy. He turned his head towards the bathroom door. "What did you think of Roderich's tux?"

He could tell Arthur was still giving him that understanding smile. Dammit. But – "Perfectly suited to him. I'd never wear a bloody purple tuxedo, but he can carry it off."

"Cheh. Never get me into one, either." Lovino was a little relieved that they'd moved on from the romantic talk.

"But purple wouldn't suit you at all. If you wanted a colored tux, you should go with olive green, or maybe a dark blue."

"That actually makes sense. How do you come up with all this shit?"

"Years of studying color. Learning the complements to every color. I think Vash should have worn a dark plum color today, instead of white, for example. He looked too washed-out."

Lovino kissed Arthur's cheek and settled in against his shoulder again. "Probably didn't want to look like a fucking eggplant," he laughed, and Arthur poked him. "Well, you have to admit plum isn't exactly a color a lot of men can carry off. Frankly I'm surprised he wore white. Thought he'd go with traditional black."

"But he was the bride," Arthur laughed, and then Lovino did too. "But that's a very good point," the blond continued. "You'd look great in a white tux, with your tan skin."

"Bastard!" Lovino punched him. "What makes you think I'd be the fucking bride? I am the major breadwinner, you know." Then he bit his lip, because that sounded a bit high-handed.

But no. "You're the one sitting on my lap. I think that means you're the bride."

"Fuck." Lovino got off his lap in a hurry.

Arthur laughed at him again. "I don't even care, you know. As long as we're together I'll be the bloody bride if you want me to. I love you, and if that makes you happy, I'll do it."

Lovino felt his face flushing and hoped Arthur would attribute that to the warm water. Then he decided he didn't give a flying fuck. He took Arthur's face in his wet hands and looked into those beautiful green eyes. "You know what? I l-love you so much that I'd take a turn being the bride once in a while, too." He bit his lip, but needn't have worried.

Arthur smiled at him again. "Sweet nervous boy. Let's forget all this bride talk."

A relieved Lovino got back on his lap with a short laugh. He tried to snuggle closer, but it was a little awkward in the tub. "Am I – am I good enough to you?" he now asked quietly, twirling a finger in the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck. "Do you feel – feel cherished, and all that shit?" Dammit, he couldn't even be sentimental without vulgarity. He tried again. "I mean – uh –"

"We're fine," Arthur told him, turning his face to kiss him. "Don't fret."

"Okay. I just don't want you to feel that I'm, I'm neglecting you, or whatever."

"Lovino, I'm completely at your mercy, you know. You can neglect me if you need to."

"There will never be any reason for me to neglect you. I promise."

Arthur pinched his cheek. "Then why were you worried about it?"

"Ow. Stop pinching." To retaliate, Lovino squirmed a bit on Arthur's lap and trailed his wet fingers over his friend's collarbones. "Be nice to me."

"Keep squirming like that and you'll find I can be very, very nice indeed."

"Bastard."

"How long until the bloody hour is up?"

…


	116. The Stages of Life

**The Stages of Life.** (Caspar David Friedrich, oil on canvas, 1835)

"_Arthur!_"

"He's here," the blond sighed, somewhat unnecessarily.

"I know, bastard. I have ears, you know."

The two friends sat in their diner booth and waited for Gilbert to join them. "Hi, hi! What's up with you two? You look great. Happy and relaxed. Come on, there has to be something new, or you wouldn't have called me. What's new? Tell me, tell me."

"Relax a bit yourself, git." Arthur sipped some tea calmly.

Gilbert clapped Lovino on the shoulder before sitting next to him. He pushed back the hood of his black jacket and then grabbed the ketchup packets to stack them. "I can relax. Seriously. Watch me." But he grinned maniacally at his friends, making them both laugh.

"How's Mathias?"

"Oh, fine, fine. Job's doing all right. He's thinking of moving to a new apartment in a better area. But that's about it."

"Speaking of Mathias, I have something for you, but it's still at home," Arthur told him. "A painting."

"Cool! A painting of Mathias? Kesesese!"

"A painting of all of us together, bastard. A really nice painting, too." Lovino smiled fondly at Arthur, who blushed and looked down, picking up a fork to fiddle with.

"I know it'll be awesome. Artie's stuff always is. Thank you. What else is new?"

"Well, we were in Europe last month," Arthur offered, "though it was a pretty fast trip. If we'd had the time, we could have gone to see him." He felt a bit distressed at that. Paris wasn't _that_ far from Zurich. They should have spared some time for that.

Apparently Lovino was thinking similar thoughts. "We can do it next time. Don't sweat it."

"Why were you there?"

Lovino explained about the firm's realignment; Arthur explained about the wedding.

"Cool. I've never seen a same-sex wedding but I bet they're fun."

"Eh. Wasn't that much di-different from a regular one," Arthur said, trying not to think about those romantic thoughts he and Lovino had shared. All they needed was for _Gilbert _to know about that kind of thing! They'd never hear the end of it. "Tell me about work," he said hastily, trying to get off that topic, and felt Lovino nudge him with his knee. He laughed a little.

"Nothing. I mean, same old shit. No dates, boring work."

"I'm confused," Lovino said calmly, drinking coffee. "Are you looking for dates? I thought you wanted to be with Mathias."

"Well, yeah, but he's a million miles away!"

"So you're looking for dates, or not, bastard?"

Arthur was a little confused, too – confused about why Lovino was so interested in this. It was unlike him.

"I'm not looking for dates, all right?" Gilbert countered. He put his arm around Lovino's shoulders and smiled archly. "Though if you were going to break up with Artie, I'd go out with you in a heartbeat." He waggled his eyebrows and blew a kiss.

The brunet snorted and pushed him away. "I wouldn't go out with you, bastard, and I'm not going to – to break up with Arthur, anyway." He blushed. "So forget it."

So cute. Arthur squirmed a little in his seat with pleasure.

The waitress wandered over and took their orders. This was a new young waitress who didn't know Arthur, so he didn't have to make any social chit-chat with her. She smiled at all three of the men, who ordered in polite tones.

When she'd walked away – peeking back over her shoulder at the three of them – Gilbert let out a sharp little laugh. "We're so hot," he boasted.

"What are you talking about?" Lovino, next to him, jabbed him with an elbow.

"That waitress totally – uh, she _majorly_ wants us."

Arthur hadn't noticed. He scanned the room for her and accidentally caught her eye; she winked. "Bloody hell."

"Ah, forget it, bastard. Focus on your friends."

"We got invited to Alfred's brother's wedding, too," Arthur told Gilbert.

"Alfred has a brother? Wow. All these years and I never knew that. Kesesese. You're friends with him? That's kind of weird."

"He's a business associate of mine." Lovino offered this in a bored voice. "We might not go. Weddings – uh –" He interrupted himself and this time Arthur nudged him under the table – gently – making him smile.

"Well, whatever." Gilbert drank some lemonade. "What's up with the winery? Still looking into it?"

"That's why we wanted to see you, git. To celebrate."

"What?"

"We just bought a winery. Er – I mean – _Lovino_ just bought a winery."

Lovino smiled at that, but Gilbert jumped up out of his seat. "Cool! Where is it? Can we go there? I want some of the awesome wine!"

"Settle down!" Arthur reached up and tugged on his sleeve.

"Oh, all right. But seriously. Tell!" He plopped back into the seat.

Lovino told him about the small winery; they'd managed the purchase quite easily. "It's not one we went to with you," he pointed out. "They weren't set up for tourism. But we're going to change that."

"Are you going to live there, or what?"

Arthur explained about the lack of housing. "Lovino's going to buy a small house out in that area, for us to live in while we get the winery up to scratch, just so we're nearby and don't have to commute all the time. We're going to design and build our own home on the winery property, and then just sell the smaller one, when we're ready to move into the new one."

"Wow." Gilbert put his chin in his hand and sighed. "Lots of changes. That's so exciting. So how long will it be before you have actual wines ready for sale?"

"Maybe three years," Lovino said. "I'm shutting down the winery while we renovate, except for the new plantings, which I want to get in place soon. I'm planning a big expansion."

"Three _years?_" Gilbert whined. "That's forever."

The waitress came back with their food and all three of them studiously avoided her gaze until she'd left. "Bastard, I really wish you hadn't said that about her. Now I feel like a fucking idiot."

"Flirt with her if you want," Arthur said, secure. "I don't mind." He picked up a few French fries and ate them with a grin.

"I mind!" Lovino glared at him.

Gilbert, laughing, poked the brunet in the shoulder. "You're totally – majorly in love, aren't you?"

"Shut up."

Lovino kept scowling and the albino kept grinning. "Yep. You totally – majorly are! Kesesese."

"Gilbert, why the ruddy hell do you keep saying 'totally – majorly' all the time?"

"Uh." He stopped grinning and fiddled with the ketchup packets again, before opening them and putting ketchup on his fries attentively. "Be-because Feliks always used to say 'totally' all the time. So I'm trying to get it out of my vocabulary." His cheeks turned a little pink.

Lovino rolled his eyes; Arthur felt like doing the same. "Wanker. He used to say 'Gilbert' a lot, too. Going to scrub that from your vocab?"

"Everybody says 'totally,'" Lovino agreed. "Just say it."

"Fine, I totally will," Gilbert snapped defiantly, making them all laugh. "But anyway. About the winery. Why three years?"

Lovino explained about the growing season and the need for mature wines. "Don't worry, bastard. I'll mark you down for the very first bottle. How's that?"

"Sweet." He blew Lovino another kiss just as the waitress came back to check on them. Arthur looked up to see her blushing; she turned and scurried away before speaking to them, and he burst out laughing.

"I don't think we need to worry about the waitress any more," he said.

"Dammit. Lay off the fucking kisses, you idiot."

Hah. Now Arthur knew that Lovino and Gilbert really were friends. Lovino never called casual acquaintances "idiot," only "bastard." He snorted.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Lovino kicked him.

"Nothing, nothing, nothing." He picked up his roast beef sandwich. "Anyway, we can go out there and show you the place, if you like?"

Gilbert nodded enthusiastically. "Sure. But it sounds like you really have a lot of work lined up."

"Cheh, we totally do," Lovino said in a mocking tone.

Arthur raised a warning eyebrow but Gilbert just grinned. "Totally," he agreed, in a very fake tone. "But do you need any help? It'd be awesome to know I was helping with something like that." He thought a minute. "I'd love, absolutely love to do grape-stomping. Like Lucy!"

Lovino snorted. "Bastard, we have machines to do that shit these days."

"That could be a good thing for customers, though," Arthur suggested, putting a bit of ketchup on the side of his plate to dip his fries into. "Like those receptions you used to have at the gallery. Just invite the top ten customers, or whatever, for a grape-stomping party. You could have some kind of harvest picnic thing, with special wines just for them, or whatever." He got a little ketchup on his finger and wiped it off with a napkin.

Arthur became aware of a deep silence at the table and looked up to find both his friends staring at him with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "What the hell's the matter with you two?"

"Arthur! That was _marketing!_" Lovino was positively beaming, and it was a little scary. "I'm so proud of you." He leaned over the table and ruffled Arthur's hair vigorously.

"Shut it! It was just an idea." Arthur didn't bother fixing his hair.

"But it was a great idea," Gilbert pointed out. "Anything that makes people want to give you money is good marketing, and anything that's billed as exclusive is going to grab the imagination and make them want to spend more. You could even have a limited release wine with the stuff from the stomping party; charge a bundle. People who came to the party would pay a fortune for that."

Now Lovino was staring at the albino. "How the fuck do _you_ know that kind of shit?"

"My college degree is in marketing," Gilbert shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"I thought you worked in a bank?" Lovino had a suspicious look on his face, and Arthur almost laughed.

"I do! But banking, it's sort of a thing you fall into, not really a thing people study to do. Anyway, I work in real estate investment trust, not like a teller."

"_You_ have a degree in marketing." Lovino's voice was flat. "Fancy that."

Arthur laughed and drank some tea. "Fancy that indeed."

"Anyway, Artie, that was an awesome marketing idea. You guys should do it."

"We probably will. We'll come up with a lot of marketing stuff. Now that the bastard had that idea, it's probably going to open the fucking floodgates, and he'll be coming up with ideas right and left."

Arthur felt himself blushing. "Just drop it, all right?"

"Oh, all right, all right." Lovino sipped his coffee. "This coffee sucks."

"Why do you always order it, then, wanker? Why not get tea, or lemonade or something?"

"Fuck, I don't know! Coffee's like a default thing for me to order. Lemonade is for little kids."

Gilbert raised his lemonade glass with a grin. "Totally_._"

"Anyway," Lovino said, poking the albino, "we'll keep you posted. If there's anything you can help with, you can help. All right? I'll pay you in wine, if you like."

"Sure. What's the name of this awesome winery, anyway?"

"Kirkland-Vargas Winery," Lovino said quickly, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Kesesese! That's _fantastic_!"

"No, it isn't." Arthur scowled at Lovino. "I thought we weren't going to do that."

"It's still under negotiation," the brunet told Gilbert, waving his hand dismissively. "We will advise."

"You could call it the Awesome Winery!"

Arthur snorted some tea and coughed. "Ow. Bloody hell, Gilbert. Even 'Kirkland-Vargas Winery' is better than that!"

"Come on, bastards, eat up. If – uh – if you want, if you have time, we could go show you the place now?" he suggested to Gilbert. "As long as you can drive. We rode the bike."

"Yes! I had no plans at all. Can we walk around the property and all that?"

"Of course. We already closed on it, so it's mine now. Ours." Lovino turned a little red and Arthur gave him the sweet smile, just to get back at him for the "Kirkland-Vargas Winery" comments. "Stop that, bastard. I know exactly what you're doing."

"Blast." But Arthur checked to see that they had all finished their meals. "Right, let's get out of here."

The three friends rose; Arthur threw a couple of twenties on the table to pay for the meal. As they left the restaurant to head to Gilbert's car, the waitress caught his eye and blushed.

Embarrassed, Arthur smiled quickly and hurried outside after his friends.


	117. L'Allegro

**L'Allegro (Italian Sunset).** (Thomas Cole, oil on canvas, 1845)

"Hey," Arthur said, walking into the kitchen, where Lovino was cooking.

"Hey yourself, studly boy."

_"What?"_

"Ah, nothing. Just thought I'd mix things up a little."

Arthur came over for a kiss. "What are you cooking?"

"Asiago cheese and sundried tomato scones. Whole wheat."

"Whoo! Lovino, you are – well – " In lieu of a compliment, he grabbed him and began kissing again.

"Mm. Bastard, the scones will burn."

"Oh. Well, in that case, screw the kissing." Arthur laughed and stepped back.

"Idiot. Did you have a busy day?"

"Er, well, just random roaming around. Thinking about Christmas. Are we going to Italy, or whatever, this year?"

"Sure, let's. I'd rather not have a nice – uh – romantic holiday here in this house, since we won't be living here next year. It'll be easier to sell this place without the memories. Let's go to Rome, spend a month. All right with you?"

"That's fine. I don't mind that a bit." Arthur sat at the table, pushing the salt shaker around. "Though we do have a lot of non-Christmas memories here."

Lovino growled at that. "Never mind that. We'll make more. Make some arrangements. I'll give Feli a call later." He took the scones from the oven and set them on the cooling rack.

"Hopefully we'll have the new house built by next Christmas."

"Cheh, yes, of course we will. Assuming we get off our asses and start designing it."

"Well, the architects are waiting for things. We should do some sketching this weekend."

"Good idea. Let's take some camp chairs out there and a picnic. We can sketch _in situ_."

"Yes! And you know what else I've been dreaming of? Hosting a big Christmas do next year at the winery for all our friends." Arthur put his chin in his hands and let himself daydream a little.

"Yeah." Lovino smiled, too, pouring some coffee for both of them. "Speaking of friends, I need to talk to you about Williams' wedding." He sounded a little nervous at that, and Arthur shot a glance at him.

"You're going? It's next week, right? Oh, was I supposed to send back the RSVP? I don't even know where it got to."

"No, no, don't panic." He handed Arthur a coffee cup before sitting down opposite him. "I did send it back. I said we'd both go. Will you?" He was blushing, and Arthur grinned at him.

"I don't care what you say about yourself; you're an adorable romantic."

"Shut the fuck up."

Arthur burst into laughter, despite that somewhat predictable response. "Yeah, I'll go. Do we have a present for them yet?"

"No, but I'll have something shipped to the gallery for him. Not a big deal."

"Even though we'll probably run into sodding Alfred, I'm actually looking forward to it."

"No boyfriend shit!"

"No boyfriend shit," Arthur agreed. "Come on, loverboy, feed me a scone."

Lovino smirked. "You'll burn yourself."

Arthur stood up and walked behind him, sliding his palms up and down the brunet's chest. "Let me burn myself another way," he murmured, bending low and beginning to kiss Lovino's ear. "Forget the coffee; forget the scones. Come upstairs."

"I – uh – nh – yeah, all right," Lovino grunted, getting out of the chair. "Hurry up."

…

Arthur had volunteered to chauffeur to the wedding. Both of them wore suits, rather than tuxedos, because neither wanted to be mistaken for a groomsman. The pale yellow Jaguar shone in the autumn sun, and Arthur was in an excellent mood.

Lovino, by contrast, was trying not to bite his nails.

"Will you stop? You're driving me nuts."

"Sorry."

"Do you want to go home? Or I could just drop you off, and you could go by yourself." He really didn't want Lovino to be stressing about this.

"I'll deal with it, bastard. Just don't hold my hand or any of that shit."

"I know." Arthur leaned over and pinched his cheek.

"And no pinching my cheek, dammit!"

…

The wedding took place, surprisingly, outdoors, under turning maple trees. Arthur and Lovino stood towards the back of the medium-sized crowd (maybe two hundred guests) and watched Williams – who really didn't look that much like Alfred, not when they were standing right next to each other – marry his bride, a cheerful blonde who kept wiping her eyes and laughing at herself. "So cute," he said to Lovino.

The brunet nodded. "Yeah. And – and I don't feel – uh – you know, like I did at Roderich's wedding."

"You mean sappy? Weepy? Romantic?" Arthur whispered this and gave him a little smirk.

"Yes, bastard, that's what I meant!" his friend hissed, jabbing him with an elbow.

Alfred stood near his brother, beaming as if he were the proud groom, and Arthur saw that Natalia up near the front of the crowd. He wondered whether anything had ever happened between those two. Maybe he could spy on Alfred a little, later.

When the vows had been spoken and the happy couple was locked in a tearful embrace, Alfred stepped forward and bellowed, "Drinks and food in the tent, people!"

Both Lovino and Arthur rolled their eyes at that classy announcement. Most of the guests, however, streamed immediately towards the party tent.

"Artie!" Alfred yelled, spotting him, and running over. "Wow, man, am I glad to see you. Hi," he said to Lovino. "I need your help. Badly."

"My help?" Arthur was baffled. What kind of help could he give Alfred?

"Both of you! You know Natalia, right?" he asked Lovino, who frowned and nodded. Alfred looked around furtively before bending down to whisper, "She won't leave me alone, man! She keeps telling me she's in love with me."

Arthur looked into Alfred's panicked eyes, and then over to Lovino, who was biting his lip to repress laughter. And suddenly Arthur couldn't repress it anymore, and began laughing loudly, as did Lovino.

"Shut up! Don't call attention to us, dude!" Alfred scanned the area again but Natalia was nowhere in sight. He continued to scowl and poke Arthur as the Brit and Lovino continued to laugh.

"You complete wanker. Doesn't she know you're gay? Didn't you tell her?"

"She – ah – well, I'm, I'm actually not, I guess."

"What do you mean, you _guess_?" Lovino asked him. "A man ought to know something like that." He blushed a little and Arthur wanted to pinch his cheek, but didn't.

"I – I guess I'm bi. I've, ah, she and I, we, well, we, uh…"

Alfred's embarrassment was so severe that Arthur took pity on him. "So you made love to her and now she thinks she's in love with you?"

"Not because of that, dude." Alfred explained about the help he'd given with the lawsuit.

"She won the fucking lawsuit? Dammit," Lovino realized. "She must have a ton of money now."

"She does," Alfred said.

"Well? I thought that's what you wanted out of life, git? Ride the gravy train, no work, just swan around looking good and having fun?"

Alfred had the grace to look embarrassed. "I thought I did," he confessed. "But not at the expense of my sanity! It was all right when we were just hanging out together, working on the legal stuff, but…but…" He flapped his hands, apparently unable to think of a serious enough phrase.

Lovino started laughing again, and Natalia popped up right behind Alfred. "There you are, darling," she cooed. "Oh! Lovino!" She shook his hand with a negligent smile. "And your punk faggot, too. You clean up nicely," she sneered. "I'm sure my new brother-in-law is thrilled to have you here."

Arthur really did not know what to say to that.

But Alfred did. "Natalia, please. Arthur and – and Lovino are friends of mine as well. Please don't be rude." He put his hand on her shoulder and her nasty grin changed to a sweet, almost apologetic smile.

Arthur was terrified.

"Sorry," she offered, unconvincingly. "Come on, Alfred, dance with me." She led him away. About ten steps distant he turned and threw the other two a panicked glance, and Lovino barely restrained himself from laughing aloud again.

"That is unbelievable," he said, nodding.

"Poor git."

"Well, let's get something to eat, congratulate Williams, and all that. I have no idea how to get Natalia to leave him alone."

"Eh. He'll think of something. Leave town, probably." Arthur grimaced, and the two of them went to congratulate the happy pair.

"Thank you for coming to be with us on this special day," Williams told them, after introducing them to his new wife. "I'm so happy that I bought the gallery from you."

At that, both the newlyweds began blushing furiously, and the bride – Katia – turned her head away as if to conceal her expression. Arthur knew they'd gotten engaged in the gallery. He wondered why they were so embarrassed.

"I hope you'll have many wonderful years together," Lovino said. "Beautiful day for a wedding."

"We – we were very lucky," Katia stammered. "To find this park available for our special day."

Lovino made more conversation with them, but Arthur let his mind drift a little. This girl was actually Natalia's sister? He'd been wondering the whole time why someone like Alfred's brother – shy and slightly nervous – would want to be with someone like Natalia. But apparently the sisters were nothing like each other. He was glad of that. Alfred would be able to deal with Natalia eventually, he knew, but someone like Williams would be crushed. He took a deep breath and came back to awareness as Lovino tapped him on the shoulder. "Want a drink, bastard?"

The newlyweds looked a little startled at that form of address, but when Arthur simply smiled and replied, "I'd better not, since I'm driving," they both relaxed. A woman came up to them and hugged Williams feverishly, so Arthur and Lovino took the opportunity to slip away to the tent.

…

Later, as the sun was setting, Arthur suggested they leave, but before Lovino could answer, Alfred stepped up and yelled, "Single ladies! Gather around to catch the bouquet!"

"He has a great voice for that," Arthur admitted.

"Let's stick around for this. See if Natalia catches it." Both of them laughed a little at the thought of a panicked Alfred before the altar. They stepped to the side, keeping Katia in their sights.

The beaming bride threw the bouquet; it went straight for Natalia, and she swatted it aside decisively. Huh. Guess she didn't want Alfred that badly, after all.

The girl next to her, right on the edge of the crowd, swatted it, too, violently sideways. It headed straight for Lovino's face, and he reflexively reached out his hands and caught it.

_"Chigiiiii!"_

_..._

_A couple random notes._

_1. I made those scones today. They're good, but not as good as my sweet scones._

_2. Lovino's Jaguar is the same as the one Peter O'Toole drove in "How to Steal a Million."_

_3. Alfred being fearful of a loving Natalia was so amusing I had to use it. I know you "Life Sketches" readers are probably surprised, but I'm guessing she's been pestering him a lot since that night, and he can't take it anymore._

_4. Thanks to Skadiyoko for suggesting this chapter ending._


	118. Louis XIV Equestrian Portrait

**Louis XIV Equestrian Portrait. **(Charles LeBrun, oil on canvas, late 1600s)

Arthur and Lovino were busy unpacking their things at the interim house. It was an old stone farmhouse, quite nice in its way, though still a little small for two adults. But it would do.

Lovino hadn't put his townhouse on the market yet. He might want to stay in the city, and until he could find a smaller, more convenient condominium there, the townhouse would do, though it had been left with nothing but a spare bed and the most basic of kitchen implements. "We should go out later to celebrate," he suggested. "Now that all the paperwork is done."

"Git. Why don't we celebrate here?"

"Because we haven't unpacked anything yet, stupid. Look at all these damn moving boxes in here! How can we celebrate?"

"You really want to ask me that question? You're standing right in front of _the sofa_…" Arthur's voice had dropped into that seductive register that always sent chills down Lovino's spine.

"Bastard, you – you're distracting me."

Arthur stepped closer. "I meant to."

"Well – well, don't! All right? Let's just – just get some kind of work done? Please?" He tried to give Arthur a pout, but wasn't quite sure he was managing it. It wasn't something he had a lot of practice with. "I'd love to fool around, but I despise living in this half-here, half-there kind of state."

Arthur kissed him anyway. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Come on. Let's get to work." Lovino really did hate standing in a house full of moving boxes, so he went into his temporary office to get it set up the way he wanted it.

For several hours the two of them worked, calling out questions and answers to each other, occasionally stopping for coffee or tea. By late afternoon, the kitchen, master bedroom and Arthur's workroom were mostly set up. Lovino hadn't done much with his new office, other than put boxes in there and check his emails.

One email was worrying him now. Mathias, learning of the winery purchase, had emailed him a résumé. Dammit, he didn't know what to do about it. He definitely didn't want to hire him as the manager; he had no experience at all with something like that. But the cover note had said (in very frank tones, just like Mathias himself) that he wanted to move to this area, and as long as he could earn a wage to keep himself afloat, he'd enjoy coming to work for Lovino and Arthur.

That particular phrasing made him think that Gilbert must have told Mathias about the "Kirkland-Vargas Winery" discussion. He snorted and went back to the email to read it.

There were always jobs for wage workers at a place like a winery. Muscle work. Mathias would be very good at that. He smiled, imagining the tall Dane scurrying around with cases of wine, muscles bulging. Hah, he'd bet Mathias was even stronger than fucking Ludwig! This made him laugh a little.

Well, he'd talk to Arthur about it later, when they took a break. True, Arthur had no business experience, but he did have common sense. A lot of times just talking to him helped Lovino figure out the right way to proceed.

He went downstairs into the living room. Arthur had put on some music and was humming as he unpacked books for the built-in bookcases.

"Hey, bastard."

"Yes, dear?"

"Hah. Ah, nothing. I'll help; we can talk later." This room had a gigantic picture window; the previous owners had renovated that much. The floor in here was a nice oak hardwood, just rustic enough to go with the Colonial style, and yet not shabby or ancient-looking. This house had been built in the late 1700s, and was a style Lovino had not really been familiar with. But he liked it.

He moved to put lamps on side tables and plug them in. "Hey, as long as we're living here, if you want to come up with some renovation ideas, that's fine with me. For this place, though, try to keep them in the existing character of the home, so when we go to sell it, people aren't standing around scratching their heads, wondering what the hell we were thinking. No fucking Rococo cherubs."

"Yes, all right," Arthur snapped, putting books onto the bookcases. "Anyway, I'm mostly over my Rococo phase."

"Don't be so tense. You know it makes sense."

The blond turned. "Nice little poem. Fine. I'll start thinking about it." He turned back to the boxes. "By the way, I didn't know what you wanted to do with this, so I just set it aside." He gestured to a lightweight white box about twelve inches on a side. "If there was a way to frame it, I'd do it."

"You're a bastard, Arthur. I told you to get rid of that thing!"

"I've never actually met a man who caught a bouquet before."

"Shut _up!_" Lovino came over and socked him in the arm. Dammit, if he didn't shut the hell up about that stupid bouquet – He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned away.

"Ow. You didn't have to catch it, you know. Don't blame me."

"Just shut the fuck up about it." Lovino grabbed the box and stormed out of the room, intending to throw it in the kitchen trash.

Well. It was a nice bouquet, and right up until the point where he'd caught it, that day had been very enjoyable. Maybe he wouldn't trash it. And of course it wouldn't be nice to Katia to throw her bouquet away. It might even bring their marriage bad luck, and he wouldn't want that.

He now smiled, picturing Arthur in a bridal gown, and stowed the boxed, dried bouquet in an empty cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe now Arthur would be able to forget about it. He went back into the front room and got to work on the boxes of books.

…

Later, Lovino unpacked the box with his winter gear in it, since he'd need it for the Christmas trip to Italy. A nice handknit cashmere hat from his youth, warmer socks, his gloves from Arthur – his gloves from Arthur! Where were they?

Dammit. He couldn't even remember packing them. Shit, if Arthur found out, he'd be in big trouble. Dammit! He'd get an _earful_.

Frantically, he went through the box again. Nothing. He checked his dresser, even though he knew those gloves had never been in his bedroom. Nope.

"Fuck!" he yelled.

Arthur, who had been unpacking things in the bathroom, stuck his head out. "What's the matter?"

"I lost my – " Lovino caught himself just in time. "Nothing." He turned away, scraping his hands through his hair, afraid to turn around. Arthur didn't say anything for a while.

Then the blond burst out laughing. "You didn't lose them. They're in the pockets of your overcoat."

"Bastard! How the fuck did you know what I was talking about?"

"Why the hell else would you be so skittish about discussing it? Anyway, I tucked them into the coat pockets before we packed up the coats."

"I hate you."

Arthur blew him a kiss. "Have you been stressing about this all day? Poor baby."

"Shut up. Go back in the bathroom and do some work." But Lovino was smiling.

"I'm all done in here. Let's go out to eat, since there's nothing in the house."

"Fine."

They ran downstairs and Lovino tried to surreptitiously check his coat pockets, just to make sure Arthur wasn't teasing him.

Apparently he wasn't surreptitious enough. "Found them yet?" Arthur grinned. "Put them on, nervous wanker, and let's go."

"Bastard." Lovino put the gloves on and then punched Arthur in the arm. "Don't scare me like that."

"Just trying to keep you on the straight and narrow, loverboy. Give me my coat."

Lovino handed him his coat, and together they left their temporary home in search of a decent local restaurant.

…

"Mathias wants to come work for me. Us," he corrected, blushing a little, and went on to explain what had been in the email.

"Are you going to do it? I bet Gilbert would be really happy."

"Cheh, I know. I'm not doing it for him."

"Oh, yes, you are. You want everyone to be as romantically happy as you are."

Lovino pressed his lips together and raised an eyebrow, but managed not to curse or say "shut up." He waited patiently until Arthur had gotten bored with the silence, and then asked again about Mathias. Calmly.

Hah, see? He didn't have to be a surly bastard if he didn't want to!

"What worries me," he then pointed out, "is that if Mathias takes a, well, a wages position with us, that eventually, he might either regret immigrating, or get pissed at me for not giving him a higher position."

"So don't do it."

"But if he's willing –?" This really was disturbing Lovino. Yes, he didn't mind doing something nice for those two bastards, and he certainly could find a real job for the Dane to deal with. But he didn't want him regretting all this! What if he and Gilbert broke up? Then what? Would Mathias move back to Paris, or Denmark?

"Look, just give him some probationary thing. Six months of grunt work with a salary he can live off. And let him know that you'll consider him for something else better, later. I don't see what the problem is." Arthur sipped some tea. "Then if he hates it, it's not a big deal."

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "You're starting to make sense like a businessman," he worried. "This is not like you."

"I'm not some bloody idiot. Why, was it a really good idea?" Arthur beamed at him.

"Yes, bastard, it was. Well, if I'm going to hire him, I'll want to go interview him. Listen, don't say anything to the stupid albino about this, all right? Mathias said he hadn't yet mentioned it to him. I'm going to ask him to keep it mum; then if it doesn't work out, it's less hassle for everyone."

"Fine with me. May I go to Paris with you?"

Lovino drummed his fingers on the table. "No. Sorry, but in a case like this I want it to be purely business. I don't want to be thinking about how much fun we all have together, or things like that. If I can arrange it over Christmas, I'll just run up from Rome, spend some time seriously talking to him about this, and then come right back to you. Shouldn't be more than a day or two."

"That's all right, then. I'll just make you take me to Paris some other time." Arthur pouted.

"Stop pouting. Finish your dinner and let's go home. You know I'll take you, whenever you want, except not this time."

"I know." Arthur patted his hand; Lovino rolled his eyes, but let him do this. "I'm done."

"Fine." Lovino motioned over the waiter and paid the bill.


	119. Mosaic of the Annunciation

**Mosaic of the Annunciation.** (Pietro Cavallini, mosaic, ca. 1291)

Arthur had braced himself to attend Christmas Mass with Lovino again this year, and he'd found it more soothing than last year. The children's choir had been absent; this year's choir, composed of adults, had produced music both deeper and more sonorous. The incense, the congregation's responses, everything had been more relaxing, this time around.

Now that Mass was over, they were taking their traditional stroll around Rome. This made Arthur very happy, in a sort of sappy way. "Did you realize this is our Christmas tradition? Walking around Rome after Mass?" The weather was cool and overcast. So far they were lucky: no rain.

"Hadn't really thought of it that way, but, you're right." Lovino shrugged. "But if we're going to start hosting Christmas deals at the winery, this might be our last year for this tradition."

"I don't mind. We'll have a lot of years together to come up with new traditions." They smiled fondly at each other. "What time are we going to Feli's parents' house?"

"Six."

"Oh. We have a long time, then." It was just about noon.

"Well, yeah, but I want to give you your present before we go over there." The brunet gave him a nice smile without a hint of smirk. This alone was a little worrying, but Arthur smiled back.

"Do you want to go have lunch in the hotel?"

"Sure. And – uh – thanks for going to Mass with me again."

"You know I exist only to make you happy."

"Bastard. You're doing a fabulous job." Lovino squeezed his hand briefly and they headed back to the hotel.

…

After their light lunch, they headed up to their room to exchange gifts. "I had a hard time this year," Arthur admitted. "I don't count the memory books, because you've been helping me with them." In fact Lovino had even asked to sketch and paint some of the pages in there; he'd done a nice sketch of the exterior of their new home, which was now under construction (as much as could be done in winter) and a sloppy but adorable little watercolor of Katia's bridal bouquet. Arthur had wanted to laugh, but he'd squelched it. He didn't want to crush Lovino's creativity.

"You know you really don't have to get me anything. Being with you is the best gift of all." Lovino hugged him; Arthur collapsed into a sitting position on the bed and settled Lovino on his lap.

Several distracting kisses later, the brunet shoved him away. "Come on; _that_ kind of present can wait until later."

"Hah. All right. Let me off the bed. I want to get out of this suit."

Each of them got up to change into casual clothes; Arthur then rummaged in his suitcase. When he turned around with a flat box in his hand, Lovino was seated on the bed cross-legged, holding a small, flat gift of his own. Arthur joined him.

"You first, bastard." Lovino shoved the gift at him.

It felt like – a book? Perhaps Lovino had been doing secret memory books as well. Arthur smiled at that thought, ripping the wrapping off. Inside was indeed a book. A beautiful big coffee-table book with no title, just a photograph of a wine bottle and full glass on a tray, with a pair of gloves draped over it. They looked like Lovino's gloves. "What is this book?" the blond wondered, opening it; the printed words somehow seemed familiar.

When Lovino spoke his voice was gruff. "It's – it's a companion book to our memory books. Ever since last Christmas I've been trying to write down everything we've done so far – like a diary or travel journal – and then I had it privately printed. This is the, the _un_illustrated story of – of Art and Love, I guess," and with that Lovino stopped talking and gave a loud sniff.

Arthur hurriedly set the book aside and gathered him into his arms. "Oh, Lovino," he whispered into his ear. "That's an extraordinary undertaking. I don't even know what to say. "

He felt Lovino reach up and wipe his eyes before hugging him in return. "Then don't say anything, dammit."

So he didn't say anything. He cradled Lovino closer, feeling their hearts beating in unison. On a day like Christmas, with a gift like this, Arthur felt blessed, and said so.

"Me too, bastard. Though I probably wouldn't ever have thought of it if you hadn't done the memory books first."

They held each other close for another few minutes. Arthur's mind was whirling. His gift for Lovino had worried him quite a bit, on and off, but now he knew it was the right thing to give. He let go, allowing his friend to calm down a little more, and then extended the package to him.

Lovino carefully unwrapped it and set the paper aside. "Now, what is this one, bastard? Not a memory book, I'm guessing." His elegant fingers stroked the covers of the hand-bound book.

"Don't open it yet. Let me explain."

"So explain."

"You told me you didn't know anything about your real father, your biological father, right? Well, when I thought about it, I realized some of the people at your factory probably knew him, or maybe people who are now retired from the factory. Feli helped me, and your factory manager. We got a bunch of people to write down stories they remember about him, and facts they knew about his life, and things like that. The – the pages inside are all kind of haphazard – I thought you'd rather have this in their own writing, instead of typed up – so I took a bookbinding class and learned how to make them all into a book. There are some pictures in there, too, even one of you as a little baby with your parents, and I tried to look up some genealogy stuff online but there wasn't much." Arthur took a deep breath; Lovino hadn't reacted to this at all, except to keep running his hands over the cover. "You – er – you can open it now."

Lovino opened it and read the first page, which had been written by Enzo, his factory manager. "Dammit."

"That's all you're going to say?" Arthur tried to be lighthearted.

"Dammit, you fucking lovable bastard." Lovino leaned forward and kissed him. "I'm an idiot for never thinking of something like that." He flipped through the pages. "This is – completely surprising. Of course those people would know things."

"I worried a little. It's not exactly romantic."

"Hey, bastard, there's no rule that says everything we ever do has to be romantic. Though I do like it when it is. But this – this is amazing. You're giving me back a part of my life I never expected to know." His voice was soft. "Thank you. Come and lie down next to me. You can read through your book and I can read mine." Lovino smiled and patted the pillow next to him.

"Sounds good to me." Arthur settled in. "Now don't distract me. Is this chronological?"

"Yes, idiot." Lovino lay back as well. "Uh. I might get a little weepy about this."

"Don't worry. I don't mind comforting you, if you do." Arthur smiled at him. "And I'm not making any guarantees about myself, either. Some of this is bound to be emotional." He riffled the pages of his new book.

"Hand me my glasses."

Arthur did this and then began leafing through his new book, occasionally commenting on a turn of phrase or a particular memory. This was a great gift! He hoped Lovino would keep writing things down this way.

He randomly flipped until the phrase "Fallen Angel" caught his eye, and, grinning, paused to read through the whole chapter. Ah, that night had been so sexy, with Lovino working so hard to make him lose his concentration…he fidgeted on the bed a bit.

And then a thought shocked him cold. "Er."

"Er what?"

"You said you had this privately printed?"

"Yes, why?"

"I, er, I always thought that they had to print a whole bunch of the same book. Not just one copy. Are there _copies_ of this floating around?"

"You goofy idiot. Do you really think I'd allow that to happen to something so personal? No. There is only one copy, and you're holding it."

"Whew."

"Silly bastard."

Arthur looked back at the page he'd been reading. "Come on, these books will wait. Let's play a little before we go to Feli's. I never get to make love to you when you're wearing your glasses."

"Shut up." Lovino set his book aside but kept his glasses on. "Merry Christmas, sweet thing."

"Mm. Same to you, nerdy boy."

…

"Ve! Hello!" Feli, trailed by Ludwig, came running out of the house. It was dusk, and a little difficult to see, but Feli was flapping his hand like a maniac as he careened into Lovino. _"Ve~!"_

"Oof. Idiot. Merry Christmas." Lovino hugged him and nodded at Ludwig. "To both of you."

"Merry Christmas to you and Arthur as well," Ludwig said stiffly, blushing.

"What are you waving for?" Arthur wondered, as Feli tackled him in a hug.

"Ve, look! Ludwig and I exchanged rings for our Christmas present this year. Isn't it nice?" In the dim light it was impossible to make out anything other than the flash of metal.

"Can't see it very well," Arthur pointed out with a grin. "Take us inside and we can look at them in the light."

So they all traipsed into the house. "Don't think I don't see you rolling your eyes," the blond whispered to Lovino, who punched him in the arm.

The house was full of delicious smells and decorated beautifully for the season. Feli's parents came out to greet them. "Merry Christmas," his mother said in heavily-accented English, beaming at Arthur.

"_Buon Natale,_" he responded with an equally bright grin. He was going to try to speak Italian all night.

Feli's mother hugged him and switched back to Italian. "You have been studying!" she laughed. "You sound very good."

Arthur then shook Feli's father's hand. "_Lo ho praticato un po_," he said, earning wide smiles from everyone, even Ludwig.

After the greetings had been exchanged, Feli yelled "Ve!" again and dragged everyone to a lamp, to show off their rings. "Because we can't get married, you know, as long as we live in Italy, but we have joined our hearts, ve, and have made that commitment, just as if we could."

Lovino rolled his eyes again, but hugged his friend. "Idiot. I'm happy for you both." He smiled briefly at Ludwig, too.

Arthur liked their rings. They were silver, or white gold, or something, made to look like joints in a bamboo culm. "Why bamboo?" he wondered.

"It is a reminder of a short trip to Japan we took this fall. Both Feliciano and I fell in love with the culture of the country, and we got our rings there."

"You'll have to tell us about it," Lovino said. "I've never been there. Nor has Arthur?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. Arthur confirmed this with a shake of the head.

"Ve, we'd be happy to tell you about it. Maybe you could go there someday! It's beautiful!"

Feli's father poured wine for everyone and, in Italian, asked Lovino about the new winery. Everyone sat – except his mother, who was back in the kitchen – and chattered happily about the plans.

"I am so excited about your winery, Lovi. I bet it will be even better than the old one, ve."

"Since you are going to live and run the place on site, I am certain it will be easier for you, at any rate."

"Yeah, I know," Lovino said. "And Arthur's going to have to help me."

"You know I will," he replied awkwardly, choosing to add an English "git" at the end of the sentence, making Lovino snort.

The rest of the evening was festive and fun, and Arthur even caught Lovino talking to Ludwig of his own accord once or twice. For his part, the blond was able to keep up with the Italian easily, although he suspected everyone was enunciating a bit more clearly and slowly than usual, to make it easier for him. But he was glad he could manage it.

Later, after the meal, Feli's parents left them with many hugs and good wishes for the upcoming year. When they'd gone upstairs, Feli suggested, "Ve, why don't we play Scrabble?"

Lovino shrugged. "I don't mind. Arthur?"

"If it's going to be in Italian I might have trouble, but I'm game."

"We can play in English, if you like," Ludwig offered.

"But then that's not fair to the rest of you! None of you are native speakers of English." Arthur wasn't sure how to make this a fair game.

"Bastard, are you saying our English isn't as good as yours?" Lovino punched his shoulder.

"Ow. No, that's not what I was saying. Oh, bloody hell, make up whatever rules you want, and I'll play. All right?"

"Ve, then let's play in English," Feli decided, pulling out the Scrabble board.

Gameplay was spirited and amusing. At one point Ludwig made the word "love," causing Feli to squeal, and Arthur and Lovino to blush. Noticing this, Feli pinched Lovino's cheek. "Ve, you really make me happy, Lovi. I'm glad you and Arthur have each other now."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up, idiot, and make your next move." But Lovino was fighting a grin. Arthur nudged him under the table with his foot and the grin changed to a smirk.

As they continued, he watched Lovino become more and more relaxed, just a bloke having fun with his mates. He argued words with Ludwig, elbowed Feli each time the younger Italian made a dumb joke, and occasionally kicked Arthur under the table when some dodgy word (such as Arthur's choice of "angel") made him blush. But he _was_ having fun, and to Arthur, that was the best Christmas present of all.

…

"You and Ludwig were getting pretty chummy there," he teased, back at the hotel.

"Shut up. Hey, remember I'm going to Paris on Tuesday to see Mathias."

"Right. Well, I'll take my easel somewhere warm, and paint sad pictures while I cry about missing you."

Lovino looked at him in disbelief. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm actually with you, you sarcastic bastard."

Arthur pouted.

"Yes, yes, yes, you know I'm kidding. Come on, stupid. Get in the fucking bed."

"Make me." He started laughing and Lovino shoved him backwards until he fell against the bed. "Oh, all right. You talked me into it." Arthur reached his arms up and pulled Lovino down on top of him. "Merry Christmas."

…

_Lo ho praticato un po = "I've been practicing a bit."_

_I want to see a picture of baby Lovino with his parents!_


	120. Sunnyside

**Sunnyside. **(Currier & Ives print, ca. 1860)

Despite the joyous occasion, Lovino had been in a fairly foul mood all day. Well, who wouldn't be? Two relocations in eight months! Fucking moving boxes all over the damn place, everything in disarray…he was snappish and he knew it, but didn't bother trying to be nice about it. Arthur would just have to understand, dammit.

Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. The blond had been strangely quiet all day, at first wandering around their newly-completed home, stroking the woodwork or the leaded glass windows absently, as if he couldn't believe the dream was actually a reality. But as Lovino's fuse had gotten shorter and shorter while trying to unpack, Arthur had begun to focus on the work that needed to be done and basically ignored him.

By the end of the day – during which Lovino hadn't even stopped for a meal break – he was exhausted and sweaty and just wanted to collapse in bed. He and Arthur had been silently working on putting books into bookshelves, so he tried to sneak away.

Arthur glanced up, met his eye, but then turned back to the books. Lovino slipped upstairs and ran the water for a bath in the enormous, luxurious tub. Maybe that would help.

He lay back in the water, at first just depressurizing, letting the water cool him down a little. Moving during the summer ought to be banned by law. He washed his face and then decided to put some of that fancy bath salt shit into the tub. He reached for the nearest bottle – huh, peach; he hadn't even known they owned something like that. But it smelled good. He poured some in and lay back again.

As he began to calm down, Lovino let his eyes linger on the elegant, large master bathroom. Since he was more addicted to baths than Arthur, the blond had suggested that Lovino have free rein on designing this room, and he'd indulged himself. Tiled in white and cool shades of blue, with the occasional little bit of mica embedded in the tiles, the bathroom had the feel of a large spa, or even a sparkling underwater cavern. He felt the stress melting away as he admired the work the builders had done: the futuristic shower enclosure, the sauna, the clear glass bowl sinks. This room was _big_, and he loved it.

The tub itself was pretty fucking fancy, too. It had seats in it, side-by-side seats with a waterproof flat-screen TV at the opposite end of the tub, in case they ever got bored and wanted to watch a movie in the bathroom. Hah! Although the occasion might arise, who knew?

Beyond the foot of the bathtub, a gas fireplace, which would be nice in winter but on a June day like today was pointless. But it was all very high-end and quite, quite different from the bathroom at his little townhouse. In a custom bathroom like this, Lovino truly felt like the multimillionaire he was.

Ah. Yes. This bath was doing the trick. He felt much less stressed already. It seemed like they'd gotten a lot done today – he knew _he_ had, but had no idea how much Arthur had actually accomplished. At least tomorrow ought to be calmer. He leaned back and laced his fingers together behind his head. Shit, yes, his hair would be wet and full of peach junk, but who cared? He could wash it when he was done.

The stuff smelled really good. Maybe they should plant some fruit trees. It would be nice to have their own fresh fruit once in a while. They'd planted climbing roses and ivy around the house, and Lovino knew it would look very nice, once the plants started climbing. But there was plenty of room for a small fruit orchard, too.

Thinking about the garden led his mind to the six-car garage they'd built. He laughed a little at that; their cars looked so lonely in that giant place, but both he and Arthur had been fairly certain they'd want more garage space later. Maybe he'd bring the Ferrari over, finally, now that he had someplace to keep it.

Lovino lay in the tub daydreaming for nearly an hour before he really started to think about Arthur. He used his foot to top up the tub with hot water and settled back again, finally turning on the water jets. Maybe he should go apologize?

Ah, maybe he wouldn't need to. Arthur understood him.

Of course, having thought that, he couldn't focus on anything else. He probably ought to get out of the tub and go apologize.

Just as he began to drain the tub, Arthur ducked into the bathroom. "You all right?"

"Uh." Lovino ran a wet hand over his face. "Uh, yeah, now I am. Sorry about today," he muttered. "Don't know why I was in such a bad mood." Well. That had been easier to say than he'd expected.

"M-may I join you?" Arthur was blushing and looked nervous and cute.

"Sure. Tub's big enough. I made sure of that." He tried to give a little laugh, and stoppered the drain again, adding more hot water.

Arthur quickly undressed and got into the tub next to him. "You – you're all right with this?"

"Bastard, we take baths together all the time! Why the hell wouldn't I be all right with it?"

"That's not what I meant. I mean with – with the house, and the winery, and everything." Arthur looked down at the water's surface.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Lovino was completely baffled. "Why would I not be all right with it?"

"Because you've been such a pissy wanker all day! I thought maybe you were having second thoughts, or something," Arthur snapped. "Didn't like the design, or didn't like the idea any more, or – or whatever."

"Oh. You're too nervous, loverboy. I was just irritable about having to move again so soon." He placed a wet hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't you think I have a right to be nervous? When you get like that, I worry that I'm just here by your generosity, and if you ever changed your mind, I'd be out on my arse." Arthur picked up the soap and began fiddling with it, turning it over and over, creating mounds of foam in his hands.

Lovino, stunned, didn't respond, but climbed over him to get out of the tub. There was something he needed to fetch.

"Wh-where are you going?" Now Arthur sounded really panicky.

"Oh. Just calm down. I need to get something." Lovino wrapped a towel around himself and bent over to kiss the top of Arthur's head. "Please? Just relax?"

"If you say so."

"I do say so. I'll be right back."

He hurried to his new office and brought out a couple of small boxes in one hand before rushing back to the bathroom. Arthur shouldn't let himself get uptight about this shit, and hopefully this gesture would prove that to him once and for all. He dropped the towel and got back in the tub, taking care to hold the boxes out of the water.

Arthur was eying him trustfully. Well, might as well do it. "Here," he said, handing Arthur one of the little jewelry boxes.

"What is it?"

"What do you think? Open it."

Arthur opened it and his eyes grew wide. "You – ah – it – _what_?"

"Read inside it."

The blond removed a gold ring from its box and held it up to read the inscription. "'L-lovino loves me'?" His voice was hoarse. "Is this – you –" He stared at Lovino wild-eyed.

Lovino cleared his throat. "You remember what Feli and Ludwig said about their rings? They made that commitment, like marriage, in their hearts?" He waited for Arthur's slow nod before continuing. "I – I liked that. I mean, not that he's committed to the fucking potato bastard, but the gesture. I like the idea of us wearing rings for each other, and I'd planned all along to give it to you today, our first day in our new home, first day of our new life together. But my attitude's been pretty bad all day. I'm sorry about that. But – but I hope you'll wear it and stop all this worrying about me dumping you. That's not going to happen. Ever."

Arthur looked up and gave him a tiny little surprised smile. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"You going to wear a ring for me?"

"I have one here. I – uh – I took the liberty of having them engrave 'Arthur loves me' inside it. I, uh, I hope that was all right?" Dammit, he could feel himself blushing, but didn't want to rub his face with bath water.

"Of course it was all right, you pushy git. It's completely true, you know."

"I know."

Arthur finally smiled at him and tried on the ring. "Hah. It fits! How did you know what size to get?"

"I took a wild guess. Gold is easy to resize, though." Lovino showed him his matching ring before slipping it onto his ring finger.

"I guess this is it. You'll never get away from me now," Arthur laughed, twisting sideways to embrace him.

"Never wanted to, _amato,_" he whispered, lips moving against the cool creamy ear. "Yours for life."

"Best thing you've said all day." Arthur leaned back and tilted his head for a kiss. "Bloody beautiful way to make the commitment, too. In this architectural marvel of a bathroom, in the dirty water you've been soaking in for an hour, after a crabby day of busting our bollocks and not speaking to each other. I'm happy."

Lovino grinned. "This is exactly why you're so perfect. Come on. Let's test out the futuristic shower." He stood up and extended a hand to the blond; dripping and laughing, they made their way across the bathroom to the enclosure and stepped inside.

"Love you," Arthur murmured, just before the water came on.

"Counting on it, bastard. Let's make this the start of an even better life together."

"Deal."

…

A week later Lovino went for a walk on the property, crunching down winding paths laid with tumbled glass nuggets in deep green – recycled from wine bottles – instead of the more generic gravel or mulch. Arthur had driven into town to see Gilbert, and the albino was going to come back to the winery with him to see the new house.

Lovino still hadn't made up his mind about hiring Mathias – their conversation over Christmas had been pretty reassuring, but he still had that fear that something would go wrong between Gilbert and the Dane, and Lovino would end up taking the blame. Or at least he'd _feel_ like he was at fault. He'd been able to put off the decision because the house and buildings hadn't been ready for anything, but he needed to make a firm decision soon. So maybe by talking to Gilbert today he could sort it out. At least Mathias hadn't been pestering him about it. The four of them exchanged emails all the time now, but everyone was avoiding that topic.

Lovino thought maybe he'd talk to Arthur about it later, too, once Gilbert was gone.

When they arrived, it was still daylight, and he met them on the front porch. "Hey, bastard."

Gilbert whistled. "Whew! Nice place!"

"Wait until you see Lovino's bathroom," Arthur grinned.

But Lovino had had another idea while waiting for them. "Let's go see the property before it gets dark," he suggested, "the new buildings and pathways, and then you can have the house tour after that."

"Fine with me. It all looks so awesome!" Gilbert craned his neck to look around from where he stood. "This is beautiful. You guys are talented."

"Give me a second. I'll be right out." Lovino ducked back inside and motioned to Arthur.

"What?" the blond asked, following him inside.

"Let me walk around with the bastard, without you. I want to get some kind of a feeling about this Mathias business."

"Sure. Want me to get any food ready? Drinks?"

"Ah, just relax a while. Should be back in twenty minutes."

"Fine. I'll be here waiting." Arthur flopped on the sofa. "Go have fun."

Lovino slipped out the door.

…

When they came back Arthur was asleep on the parlor sofa. "Wake up, sleepy bastard."

"Nh? Oh. Oh! Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep. Come on in; I'll just have some tea or coffee."

"Kesesese! Come on, Artie, wake all the way up and give me the tour. Lovino did a great job of the property tour but now you have to do some work." Gilbert poked him.

"Yeah, all right, give me a minute! I'm tired! I had to spend the whole day jabbering with some albino wanker in town."

The three of them wandered slowly through the spacious home, allowing Gilbert to fully take in the architecture, the artworks (he crowed a little, recognizing some of Arthur's paintings), the astonishing bathroom. "No gold leaf?" he laughed.

"Git."

Lovino gave Arthur a very funny look. "Believe me, if I hadn't stopped him, we'd be up to our asses in gilded marble columns and fucking Baroque fountains."

"Like Versailles! That would be pretty cool, you have to admit. You need more mirrors, too."

The brunet snorted. "Not in my house. But I did let him put gargoyles on the roof."

"Cool! I missed those. Have to check them out next time, since it's dark now."

In the bathroom Gilbert had to sit in the dry tub and pretend to watch TV, and then step into the shower pod and pretend he was in a spaceship. Arthur laughed at this. "I think Gilbert is going to ask to stay overnight just so he can use the shower," he whispered to Lovino.

"He can use the guest shower, dammit. This is my shower and nobody else gets to use it."

Gilbert came back out of the pod. "Awesome."

"Come on downstairs again. That's pretty much the last of the upstairs. Let's have some coffee or something."

They made their way to the spacious living area, where large picture windows looked out on the expansive front lawn. "That's a great lawn. You could have good soccer matches out there, with enough people."

"Not sure I want a bunch of bastards tearing up my turf."

"Kesesese! Well, all right, just a _small_ bunch of bastards. Like if Mathias ever comes over again, the four of us could play a little."

"How's he doing?" Arthur asked delicately.

"Got a promotion. He's going to be traveling more."

"Is that something he likes or hates?" Lovino wondered. "I always hated it until I realized I could just drag Arthur with me. Now it's fun." The blond rolled his eyes at that.

"It's funny," Gilbert said, sipping his coffee. "He told me that ordinarily he'd love the idea of being able to go to new places all the time, but ever since he met me, he doesn't want to waste his time jetting around the globe." He buffed his nails on his shirt. "Rather save his energy to come see me. And you know? I can completely understand that; I'm just that awesome."

Dammit. Now Lovino didn't know what to say to get the conversation away from this.

But Arthur did. "Have any more good marketing ideas lately?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. But it might be too much for you. How about small outdoor concerts?"

Lovino's knee-jerk reaction was to nip that idea in the bud, but he stopped to think. "Actually not a bad one. Keep coming up with them, bastard. You're helping."

"Good."

The three friends sat and chatted about the winery, Gilbert's job, Arthur's art, future travel plans. Luckily nobody mentioned Mathias again. Lovino wondered whether Gilbert was perceptive enough to avoid the topic on purpose. He knew Arthur was.

"Well, I should get going. Playing soccer with the boys from the office tomorrow. You two should come down! We're meeting at the Washington Monument at two."

"Maybe," Arthur told him. "Depends if we get any work done around here."

They walked Gilbert to his car. He hugged each of them in turn. "I'm really excited for you. This is a cool place to live, and it sounds like the winery's on track to be amazing."

"It will be, bastard. Thanks for coming out."

"See ya!" Gilbert put the top down and roared off into the quiet country night.

"Well?" Arthur asked, as soon as he'd gone.

"I'm going to do it," he decided on the spot. "It's ridiculous that they're both pining away for each other, when the bastard's willing to move and I have a job to offer him. Come back inside. We can talk about it. I'm also wondering if I should offer Gilbert a job, too."

"Really? Why?"

"Because I'm too fucking sentimental? Ah, bastard, because I keep trying to imagine what it would be like if you worked and lived in the city and I worked and lived out here, and I hate it. Let's see if we can't make them happy."

"Maybe they'll buy the old house from you."

"That's actually not a bad idea. I'm not going to cut them any break with it, though."

"What? Why would you? You're already giving them jobs. Or, well, at least offering them jobs."

"Come sit on the sofa with me. I want to tell you about Feli."

_"What?"_

"I know it's confusing, bastard. Just sit and listen."

Arthur sat. Arthur listened.

Lovino told him about times he'd been too high-handed with Feli about money, when they were younger, and how he'd been frightened of losing Feli's friendship. About how he truly hadn't understood where he'd gone wrong until a fight about the Rome hotel's management position. Feli's blunt speaking – Feli, the only person before Arthur who'd dared speak to him that way – had finally opened his eyes and made him understand how a person's dignity might be eroded by all these offhand offers of work or money. And of course Arthur had driven that message home, too, before they'd been dating. Even afterwards.

Wide-eyed, Arthur listened, and when Lovino had finished, he took Arthur's left hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing his ring. "So you see why I've been so edgy about all this."

"But at least you're _being_ edgy. You're thinking about it – almost too cautiously – and you're being careful not to just fling wads of cash at them and make it seem unimportant. Everyone's had a lot of time to think about this, to make sure he can deal with it. I think you're fine."

"Thanks. I knew talking to you would help." They leaned comfortably against each other. "This is why I won't make them some cheapo house offer for the other house, though."

"I understand now. I think you're doing the right thing. They're grown men, and they'll just have to deal with their decisions, whatever they may be."

"Yeah. I'll email Mathias tomorrow." Lovino stood up and pulled Arthur off the sofa.

"Email him tonight. You'll feel like you're doing a good deed, and then he can wake up Gilbert in the middle of the night and tell him."

"As long as the bastards don't wake us up to thank me!"

"I'll turn the phones off. Go on. Send him the email."

"Yeah. Meet me in the tub." Lovino wandered into his office to send the email. Yeah. It did feel like a good deed, and he was glad he'd finally settled on a decision. He typed in an offer, hit the Send button, and headed for the luxury tub, and Arthur.

…

_Check out the Aquapeutics website for the kind of bath and shower things in this bazillion-dollar master bathroom._


	121. Gateway to September

**Gateway to September.** (Charles Burchfield, watercolor on paper, 1956)

"One of these days we need to settle on a winery name," Lovino pointed out, sitting around the main tasting area of the winery with Mathias, Gilbert and Arthur. This room looked great already. Some of Arthur's for-sale paintings hung on the walls, and the interior had a whimsical appeal, with bright splashes of colored tiles here and there, unusual barstools, and funky pendant lighting. "I know we won't be opening until next season, but I need to get the word out. Need to hire people, and I can't do that without a business name!"

"I thought you were calling it the Kirkland-Vargas winery?" Mathias asked, with a grin.

"Lovino knows how I feel about that," Arthur grumbled.

"I don't see why it's a problem, bastard. It's just as much yours as mine, and it's a good name."

"So, you still don't want to call it the Awesome Winery? Kesesese!"

"No, no, no; don't be stupid." Lovino sipped his drink; they were sharing a bottle from his old winery, one of the last ones he'd had in the cellars. Gilbert and Mathias were both very excited, because they thought it tasted great, and hoped the new stuff would be just as good. Of course, they weren't regular wine drinkers, so maybe any wine would taste good, to them.

Mathias had been very happy to accept Lovino's offer of entry-level employment, with the promise of promotion in a few months, and Gilbert had been surprised and happy to get a job offer, too (running the customer areas and shop). It hadn't taken them very much time at all to agree, move out here, and settle in, although they hadn't bought the old house. Gilbert had picked out a modern monstrosity of a home about six miles away, and they were living there with a big Golden Retriever named Fritz, who at the moment was cozily sleeping on Arthur's feet.

Because the winery was not yet open for business, the work they were doing – the work that all four of them were doing – was mostly grunt work. Moving things, setting up machinery and storage facilities, taking deliveries, working on the plantings. Their days were spent in productive and pleasant camaraderie. Lovino was glad of that. He even felt that it was doing him some good to roll up his sleeves and work, instead of just being the figurehead. That's why they hadn't hired anyone else yet. They were managing, together.

"How about the Fritz Winery?" Gilbert beamed. "You could put his picture on the labels." The rest of them laughed.

"No, git. Just calm down. We'll think of something."

Lovino finished his drink. "I really think it should be Kirkland-Vargas. But we can talk about that later."

"Kesesese! If you two got married and hyphenated your name, that would awesomely solve all your problems!"

Arthur got an evil smirk on his face. "Yeah, all right," he told Lovino, ignoring Gilbert. "It's a deal."

The brunet snorted. "We have our private lives under control, bastards. Don't be nosy and don't be so fucking pushy."

"Lovino, you will never change." Gilbert pinched Lovino's cheek.

"Stop that." He smacked the pale hand away.

"Well, we can keep thinking about a winery name. A truly awesome business name doesn't just float out of the ether, you know," Mathias pointed out. "Something will occur to one of us."

"It'd better occur soon, dammit." Lovino pushed his chair back and leaned back, crossing his legs. "Uh – thanks for helping out today. We got a lot done, and I'm glad it's the weekend."

"Me too. Gilbert and I have to go car shopping. I want to buy an American car!"

Both Arthur and Lovino wrinkled their noses, at that, but Mathias looked so enthusiastic that they laughed with him. "Good point, though," Lovino admitted. "We need to get a truck or something, too. Maybe an SUV. It's ridiculous that I have to keep begging you to drive whenever we need something big." He kicked Gilbert under the table.

Gilbert kicked him back. "Hey, let's go kick a soccer ball around for a while. It's a great night and I know Fritzie will love to run around with us. He's going to get fat if he doesn't get some more exercise."

"He's not the only one, bastard," Lovino laughed. "Let me get changed." He was wearing jeans; the rest of them were in shorts.

"Meet you out on the front lawn." Arthur took the empty wine glasses to the sink behind the bar, dislodging the dog, who ambled over to the door with Lovino before running out onto the lawn.

…

After changing, Lovino stopped for a moment on the front porch to watch his friends cavorting in the setting sunlight. Mathias and Gilbert were kicking the soccer ball around, and Arthur was lying on the grass, laughing and wrestling with the dog, which was happily barking its head off.

Maybe they should get a dog, too. He remembered that Arthur had talked about that once, a long time ago. He could see that the bastard liked them, and – and that way Fritz would have someone to play with, too, and not be lonely while they were all working. They could set up a big dog run area back behind the garage. And besides, a watchdog on the premises would be really useful. Yes. Lovino cleared his throat. He'd talk to Arthur about that later. Gilbert had learned from Alfred that, uh, what's her name, Katia, was a dog expert, and they had been dropping Fritz off for obedience lessons during the week. Lovino would have to check to see if she could take on the duties of one more dog. See whether she even wanted to.

And they'd have to finalize the winery name soon, too, without Gilbert and Mathias around to butt into the discussion. It was going to be the Kirkland-Vargas Winery, no matter what it took to convince Arthur.

As he paused, watching them all, the brunet felt a new peace. Because he'd been brave enough to open his heart to Arthur's friendship, and then to accept his love, he now had a good future to look forward to, instead of just existing, all alone and crabby. He had a lot of real friends, for the first time in his life. Because these bastards were his friends, he knew that.

No. They were his _family._ He trusted them, and – and he cared about them, just like he knew they cared about him. It was a new and surprising feeling for someone as isolated and defensive as Lovino had always been. He liked it a lot.

He stood alone for just a moment longer, and then hurried down the steps to join them, laughing.

…

_I was going to end the story here, but got a few more little ideas while writing this chapter. So, I'd say it's going to end "soon," but I don't know how soon. Stay tuned._


	122. The Harvest Wagon

**The Harvest Wagon.** (Thomas Gainsborough, oil on canvas, 1784)

"Do we have any plans today?" Arthur asked, stretching in the big, luxurious bed.

Lovino rolled over to face him. "Well, bastard, I, uh – " He stopped talking and rolled face down, resting his chin in his hands.

"Uh what?" Arthur poked him with a grin. "You want to do something romantic, don't you?"

"What? No!" Lovino looked up at him, surprised. "No, I was going to ask if you wanted to go get a dog."

Arthur was taken aback and blinked a few times. "What? Why?"

"You said something about a dog a long time ago. When we first talked about moving in together, remember? Big house in the country, big dogs?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well," Lovino went on with a smile, "we've got the big house in the country now, idiot, and I see how much you like playing with that bastard dog of Gilbert's, so I thought maybe today we could go get a dog."

After he'd grabbed Lovino and pulled him up on top of him, kissing him fiercely, Arthur lay back on the pillow again. "I, er, doesn't that take a lot of research? Finding out what type you want? Or have you been sneaking around doing dog research when I'm not around?"

"Didn't do any research. Thought we could do that this morning. I don't even know how to buy a dog. Pet shops?" He tickled his fingers along Arthur's collarbone.

"Probably not. They don't sell pets much anymore. Gilbert and Mathias got Fritz from a breeder."

"Then we should look at breeders. Well, I guess we should find out what kind of dog we want, first."

But Arthur was thoughtful. "Do – do we have to get a purebred dog?"

"Why not? What do you mean?" Lovino rolled off him and onto his side again. "You want a cat instead? We could do that. I like cats."

"Not what I was getting at, but we could get a cat too, if you like. No, I was thinking about dogs in shelters. Abandoned dogs. I've always felt a little sorry for them. From what I've read, they tend to be dogs that the owners just gave up on, for some reason. And that – that makes me a little sad."

"You've got such a bleeding heart, loverboy. Sure. Let's find a shelter. We can at least look there. And there's no rule that says we have to get one today." Lovino peered out the big window. "An abandoned dog would probably love it here."

Arthur finally rolled over and hugged him. "Anybody would love it here."

"I know." Lovino gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Anyway, we'll take the truck; we need to get dog shit."

_"What?"_

"Dumbass. You know what I mean. Crate, leashes, whatever?"

"Oh. Yes. Good thing we bought that truck. I admit it's still kind of funny to see you driving it. You don't look redneck enough."

"You're a fucking bastard." But Lovino smiled, so Arthur did too.

…

After purchasing all the things they thought they'd need, Lovino drove to the shelter. "How do we do this?" he asked. "If we don't know what they have, how can we decide what we want?"

"You know what I've always liked? Sometimes you read about people instantly bonding with pets. They walk in, and the pet instantly loves them, and it's all happy."

Lovino snorted. "It's all bullshit, is what it is. But we can try." He parked the truck and they went inside.

After a few moments' discussion with one of the employees, they walked silently through the shelter with her. In the main building, groups of cats were kept in small glass-walled rooms with toys and perches; the dogs were in individual kennels out back. The shelter lady was bright and attentive, discussing breeds with them as they walked.

"No pit bulls," Lovino told her, before they got very far. "That's my one rule."

"Er. I – I don't want anything like that. I want someone playful." Arthur grinned sheepishly.

"Yes, bastard, I know." The brunet elbowed him.

The kennels were extremely loud, as almost every dog in the place began barking like mad when they entered. "Ow," Lovino said, covering his ears. "Maybe we should rethink this."

"Hah. We're only getting one, right? You don't plan to buy them all, just to get them out of the shelter?" Arthur laughed and poked him in the shoulder.

"Yes, all right, shut up."

The kennel lady walked with them, offering commentary on the different dogs. Most of the dogs were older. He and Lovino had discussed this; they wanted a young-ish dog, a dog that probably didn't have any bad habits yet. Arthur thought that perhaps they had unrealistic expectations, at least for a shelter dog. But together they silently passed cages with Rottweilers, a German shepherd (Arthur pointed this out with a grin and received a smack in the arm), a few yappy toy breeds.

And then Arthur stopped in the middle of the aisle with his jaw gaping, pointing at a dog.

"What's the matter, bastard?" Lovino turned to follow his gaze.

A silent, rather dirty Old English sheepdog seemed to be staring at Arthur just as intently. The blond walked closer to the cage and hunkered down, extending his hand, and the dog sniffed it before beginning to bark. Arthur smiled and tried to reach his hands inside the fencing of the door, and the dog began to lick his fingers.

"Looks like we found our dog," Lovino muttered to the kennel lady, who laughed.

"That's Caesar."

"Caesar!" Arthur yelled, and the dog stopped barking and sat, wagging his tail. "Wow. Good dog. I – er – I was just thinking about Julius Caesar, and Rome, and Britain, and all that."

He saw Lovino turn a little red as he fought a smile. "You like this dog?"

Arthur looked back at Caesar, who was still sitting up attentively despite all the barking from the other dogs. "Why is he here?" he asked the shelter lady. "Bad behavior?"

"No. The owners moved to Germany, and the immigration laws for pets are a little strict over there. That's all."

He heard Lovino snort at that. "Caesar, you want to come home with us?" Arthur asked softly, tickling his chin.

A single bark was all the confirmation he needed. He turned to Lovino with his sweet smile, but it turned out he didn't really need to. The brunet was already on his way over, kneeling down and extending his hand as Arthur had done.

Caesar sniffed it politely and then barked once, again, still wagging his tail.

"Lovino is the alpha dog at our house," Arthur warned Caesar, who tilted his head to the side and stared at him. At least, Arthur _thought_ he was staring at him. Hard to tell with all that hair covering his eyes.

"Damn straight, bastards." Lovino watched the polite dog. "Let's talk about it. Come on."

The shelter lady, pleased, got a leash. "We can give him a wash for you. He was due for one this afternoon anyway. Let me get him started and I'll meet you back in the office building."

"Sounds good," Arthur agreed. "We can look at cats while we wait."

When Caesar came out of his kennel he leaped at Arthur with barks of joy; the blond bent down and hugged him. "I think you can come home with us," he whispered. The shelter lady led Caesar away with a grin and the two friends went back into the main building.

While they meandered around the cat rooms, they discussed Caesar. "He seems really nice."

"Figures some bastards would move to fucking potato country and abandon a nice dog like that."

"Hey, their loss, our gain." Arthur peered in through the glass wall of a cat room. "Look at all the kittens in here!"

"May we go inside the cat room?" Lovino asked an attendant politely. She nodded and they went inside, careful not to let any kittens escape.

There were about eight small kittens in this room, sleeping on perches, drinking water, and generally making little peepsy mews. This time Lovino dropped to his knees first. "I want to see if any of them come and see me," he explained. "Like your mystic shit."

Two kittens made a beeline for him, one tabby, one ginger. "Hah. Two, wanker?"

"I don't mind," Lovino said in a somewhat faraway tone. "Then they would have each other to play with." He reached out one hand to each of them.

Arthur ruffled his hair. "You really like them, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the ginger kitten, who sniffed his nose. "These guys are cute. Let's get them both. But we have to go get litter boxes and things now."

"We can do that on the way home. You're in charge of pets now, bastard," Lovino laughed, standing up with the other kitten in his hand. "Let's do it."

…

It was late in the afternoon by the time they got home and settled all their new furry friends into the house. An ebullient (and beautiful, once groomed) Caesar would be confined to the downstairs for now, crated at night, while the kittens (Lovino still hadn't named them) were situated in one of the spare bedrooms that hadn't been furnished yet. They watched the kittens eagerly exploring the new cat trees, toys, food and water, and even the litter box, for a few minutes, before heading back downstairs to get Caesar out of his crate.

"Ready to go for a walk, Caesar?" Arthur asked in his sweet voice.

The dog barked eagerly as the leash was clipped to his new collar. "Come on. Let's go, bastard, there's something I want to talk to you about."

…

Their progress was very slow, as Caesar had to stop and joyously sniff and mark everything he saw, barking happily, but that didn't bother either of the friends. When they reached the first curve in the long glass path, Lovino pulled Arthur over to a bench they'd had installed, and they sat. Arthur absently tied Caesar's leash to the bench.

"What's the important talk going to be about? I already know I'm going to end up doing all the dog walking and litter box cleaning," he laughed.

"Shut up, stupid. That's not it."

"Oh. It's about the winery name, isn't it? Bollocks."

Lovino leaned back on the bench and took Arthur's hand. "Please tell me why you object so much. It sounds like a very good name, to me. I don't like these goofy business names, like the Sweet Tomato Winery or whatever. Kirkland-Vargas sounds professional and businesslike."

Arthur thought about this. "The only real reason is because it's _your winery_. You own it, you're the figurehead, the brains behind it, the – the financier. I'm just your – well, you know. It makes me sound too important to have my name there. Especially to have it be before Vargas on the label."

Lovino smiled at him and kissed Arthur's ring. "Well, I've been thinking about something." But he stopped and didn't go on.

"Yes?" Arthur asked, when nothing had been said for several minutes. Caesar sat attentively, and Arthur reached his other hand to pet him.

"Dammit, bastard, marry me and we'll hyphenate our name," Lovino blurted out, turning his head away.

"Wh – _what_?"

"You heard me."

"Uh. But you don't want to get married! Not to a man."

"I don't want to get married to 'a man.' I want to get married to you." Lovino finally turned and looked into Arthur's panicked eyes; the brunet didn't look much calmer himself.

"Really? Or are you just saying this because we could call it the Kirkland-Vargas Winery if we did?" Arthur was a hundred percent baffled by this _volte-face_.

"I – I've been thinking about it. My business contacts can just go take a flying leap. I don't care what they say." Lovino let go of him and rubbed his hand over his face. "And then we can call it the Kirkland-Vargas Winery."

Arthur was still at a loss, and Lovino's body language was so tense. When he realized that, Arthur understood. "We don't have to get married to do that. If you really feel that strongly about it, we can call it the Kirkland-Vargas Winery. Seriously, Lovino, you don't have to go to such extremes." He twisted his fingers together in his lap, trying to stay calm, keeping his eyes on the now-resting Caesar.

Lovino didn't say anything for a while.

When he did, he sounded very meek. "You're not mad at me?"

"_Mad_ at you? You proposed to me, despite all the fears and anxiety you have about it? No, I'm not mad. It was kind of thrilling to actually hear you say those words. But you know we don't need a ceremony to pledge our hearts. We already did that, remember?" He waggled his ring finger. "I haven't looked at anyone else since I met you. I'm not going to look at anyone else again."

Lovino leaned against him. "Bastard, you are unbelievably perfect. So you – you won't get mad at me if I back off from the wedding idea?"

"Of course not." Arthur turned his head and kissed his temple, slipping an arm around Lovino's shoulders.

"Uh. Does that mean you do agree to Kirkland-Vargas? Even without a wedding?"

"Yes, sweet thing, we can call it Kirkland-Vargas Winery, and not have a wedding, and everything will be fine." Caesar barked at that, making them both chuckle.

"I'm sorry," Lovino said, finally turning to look at him. "I'm so awkward about this shit. I didn't know how else to do it. But I really wanted to call it Kirkland-Vargas, and when Gilbert said that last week about hyphenating our names, you said yes. So I thought maybe that would convince you."

"Don't worry about it. If I'd thought you would take that comment seriously, I'd never have made it." Arthur kissed him softly. "We're all right. You've been so adamant about Kirkland-Vargas that you must be fairly confident in it, so, let's go with that."

Lovino wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and held him close. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into his collar.

"I know," Arthur grinned, hugging him back.

"Fucking bastard. Give me a kiss."

"To the Kirkland-Vargas Winery," Arthur said, kissing him.

"Amen to that, bastard."

…


	123. The Last Judgment

**The Last Judgment. **(Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel fresco, 1541)

Christmas afternoon was bright and brittle. It had snowed earlier in the week, but luckily all their house guests (Feli and Ludwig, Roderich and Vash) had been able to make it to town before the bad weather had started. Feli and Ludwig were staying in the small faux-gatekeeper's lodge, which Arthur had designed in a very organic style, in shades of green and brown with carved leaf vines and forest murals everywhere. Lovino had complained that he felt like a fucking elf when he was in there, to which the irritated Arthur had responded, "Well, don't come in here, then, git!"

In charge of the arrangements, Arthur had chosen to house Feli and Ludwig there for two reasons: one, he knew Lovino would be more comfortable not sharing his home with the "potato bastard," and two, he had selfishly wanted Roderich to stay in the big house, in the hopes that he'd play some beautiful music on their new grand piano. And he had! Every night this week, he or Lovino had played some nice pieces for the six of them, or eight, on the nights when Gilbert and Mathias had joined them.

Those two had taken Caesar off their hands for Christmas day so that Arthur and Lovino could relax and finish their preparations for the formal, catered party this evening, which would be held on the winery premises. They'd invited all the friends they could think of: even Alfred, because they both (grudgingly) admitted they wouldn't be together now if it hadn't been for him. The Williamses and Feliks were coming, too. Apparently Feliks had a new partner and was extremely happy. Arthur and Lovino were a little curious to meet him. Or her. They didn't even know which it was! And of course, with Feliks, you could never tell.

The one blot on the landscape was the fear that Alfred would bring Natalia as his date, but Lovino was willing to risk it, and Arthur didn't give a damn. So it wasn't a very big deal.

After a comfortable day spent lounging with their out-of-town friends, everyone split up to get dressed for the formal party. Arthur had already gotten the caterers set up in the customer areas of the winery building, where they were now preparing things. Lovino was – he had to admit – pretty excited about this party.

"Funny, I wouldn't have expected Roderich and the potato bastard to bond so easily," he now laughed, as he dressed in his tuxedo.

"Maybe they talk about German history or something." Arthur, a towel around his waist, was humming as he tried to force his hair into the Italian style. Lovino stood back and watched this process.

After four minutes he couldn't take it anymore. "Give me the fucking comb, bastard."

Arthur shrugged and handed him the comb with a little laugh. "I know, I know."

But Lovino did get it into the proper style. "It's a good thing you kept up with the trims. I kind of figured you'd let it go back to shaggy, once we got back home, but you've been pretty attentive about it."

"Don't want to look like a git next to you," Arthur muttered, and with that, Lovino threw the comb aside and kissed him.

"Look how you want to look. Put your fucking earring in, if you want. You know I love to look at you, no matter how you dress or style your hair."

"Mm, I know." They kissed some more. "Hey, don't get too grabby; I'm still a bit damp, and your tux will get wet."

"Well, get dressed, idiot! I'm going to go downstairs, see if Vash and Roderich are ready to head to the other building. Come over when you're dressed, all right?"

"Of course I will! Did you think I'd put on a tux and sit around the bedroom all night?" Arthur poked him.

"Oh, shut the hell up and get dressed," Lovino grumbled, leaving the room.

…

The party was in full swing. They'd hired a string quartet, and both of them were a little nervous that Roderich might be upset with the quality of the music, but he seemed intrigued and had dragged Vash to talk to them on one of their little breaks. The musicians sat and played unobtrusively in the corner while guests milled around. Everyone had arrived – including Feliks and his – his _date_. Feliks was dressed as Felicia, in a lavish turquoise ball gown, and his date was a slim young man in a matching turquoise tux.

Lovino was convinced this was a woman in a tux. No man – not even Roderich – would wear a tux that color. "Feliks might," Arthur had whispered, but Lovino'd flapped his hand to shut him up.

Feliks had introduced the mystery guest as Liam, but Lovino had caught a repressed smirk at that, and suspected it was a fake name. He and Arthur had sneaked off to argue about it for ten minutes after their arrival, before they'd laughed, shrugged, and realized it didn't matter.

But all the guests seemed to be having fun. Alfred was now chatting with Vash. Lovino looked around for Natalia, who was indeed Alfred's date. Ah. She was apparently haranguing her sister Katia about something; the sexy Mrs. Williams looked flustered, and Williams was nowhere in sight. Time for the host to step in.

"Katia – Natalia," he said politely, interrupting Natalia's tirade. "Thank you for coming to the party."

"It's so fun to do formal things once in a while. The property is beautiful. I hope the winery prospers," Katia smiled. "I will confess it's making Matthew think about buying a winery, too."

Natalia snorted in a very unladylike way. "Everything Lovino touches turns to gold. It's unfair."

"What about your damn lawsuit?" he blurted, before realizing that might be an unwise topic.

But to his surprise Katia laughed merrily. "She's just angry because she has all that money and Alfred still won't marry her."

"Shut up, you stupid bitch. It's none of his business."

"Amusing, though, you have to admit," Lovino grinned, raising his glass in a toast to Natalia. "You and Alfred were made for each other," he said, managing not to laugh.

"I _know!_" Natalia wailed. "But he doesn't seem to see that."

At that, Lovino did laugh, and so did Katia. Ah, here came Williams. Good. "Thanks for inviting us. This is a remarkable property," the quiet blond said.

"We were just talking about that," Katia beamed. He took her hand and squeezed it, and she squeezed back, and that made Lovino feel a little sappy. These two were really cute together. He hoped they'd have a great life.

Natalia slunk away, but Lovino stayed with his guests. "Katia suggests you may invest in a winery as well?"

"Maybe not. I may just buy us a nice country property. We spent some time driving around the area before the party, since we were a little early, and it's lovely out here. Beautiful maple trees."

"There are some nice places, for those who can afford them."

Gilbert sneaked up behind them and shook Williams' hand, then Katia's. "Great to see you here. I have to say I was stunned to find out Alfred had a twin brother. I mean, I never even knew he had family!"

"Alfred is a bit dumb that way," his twin pointed out with a wry grin, surprising Lovino, who joined in the general laughter. "But I understand you recently moved out here? I was just telling Lovino that we like this area. I'm already thinking of looking for a new home out here. My work can be done anywhere."

"But you bought the awesome gallery, right? Don't you need to be there?"

"Ah, no. I have a gallery manager. My work is all done from a little office."

"Well, if you did move out here, you'd probably love it. I've lived all my adult life in the District and I've been happier out here than I ever was there. It's so peaceful!" Gilbert went on to talk about Fritz, and the renovations he and Mathias were making to their home (they were planning to put in a shower pod just like Lovino's, which always made him laugh). The brunet knew all this, so he slipped away while the albino was blabbing.

"Lovi, Lovi!" Feli ran up and hugged him. "This party is so wonderful. You have so many fun friends. Ludwig and I are really having a good time." He squeezed the blushing Lovino's hand. "And your rings are so pretty, too, ve. When you told me about it I was very happy for you, and I still am." He lifted Lovino's hand and smiled at the ring, something he'd been doing all week, though without all the fucking commentary.

Lovino used one arm to briefly hug his friend. This was a public scene, after all. "Glad you're having fun, idiot. Steer clear of the bitch with the long blond hair."

"Oh, Lovi. Calm down. She's not so bad! Ludwig and I already spent some time talking to her."

"Well, just beware, that's all I have to say."

"Ve, whatever you say. Do you mind if Ludi and I dance a little?"

Lovino looked over at the cleared area they'd marked off as a dance floor; it was smallish, and nobody was dancing. "I don't mind a bit, but won't you feel stupid dancing when nobody else is?"

Feliciano tilted his head and gave Lovino a very sweet smile. "I never feel stupid when I'm with Ludwig, ve. Why would I be with him if I did?"

When the blushing Lovino failed to respond to this, Feli hugged him again and said, "See you later! We're going to dance!" and ran off to find the potato bastard.

Lovino turned in place, checking to see if any other guests needed attention. Hm, Mathias was talking to Natalia, now. Good luck with that, he thought, grinning to himself.

Aha. Feliks' date was standing alone. Maybe the cross-dressing bastard had gone to get her a drink. Lovino went to speak with the guest he was certain was a girl. "Are you enjoying the party?" he asked politely. "Liam" blushed and looked down. Lovino decided to pour on the ladykiller behavior and see what happened. "I'm very pleased that you were able to join Feliks," he continued in his most seductive tone, deepening his voice a little, exaggerating his accent.

"I – I was very glad to be invited. This is a much more formal party than I'm used to." The blond twirled a finger nervously through short locks. Of course this was a girl, dammit.

Arthur joined them. "That's an unusual tuxedo," he told the guest after exchanging greetings.

Lovino agreed. "All our friends seem to like weird tuxes," he laughed, gesturing towards the purple-clad Roderich. Whoops. Maybe that comment was kind of bizarre to make to someone he barely knew. But the mystery guest didn't seem insulted; just laughed a little.

"I admit I thought of getting a new one for tonight," Arthur confessed. "But I couldn't decide between plum and white."

"Not white, bastard! It'd wash you out too much, like you said about Vash."

Before Arthur could answer, their guest stuttered, "'B-_bastard'_?"

Arthur laughed. "Don't worry about it, mate. He calls me that all the time."

"Wow. You must love each other very much." Liam blushed, and so did Lovino. Dammit. Maybe he'd have to stop calling Arthur "bastard," if it was going to invite this kind of commentary from people.

"We do," Arthur said simply, and that basic comment put the brunet right back at his ease. He smiled at Liam just as Feliks arrived with two glasses of wine.

"Totally a great party, Lovino!" He blew air kisses to him and Arthur. "I love dressing up like this!"

"We know," the hosts said in unison, and they all laughed together. "You must have a really big closet," Arthur added.

"Oh, now that Li-Liam and I are living together, we, like, totally share a spare bedroom for a closet. It's, you know, it's awesome!"

"Did someone say 'awesome'?" Gilbert asked, sliding up behind them with Mathias. "Hello, Felicia, you beautiful thing." He introduced Mathias to Feliks and Liam. Lovino wondered whether there might be some awkwardness there, but apparently Feliks had no particular problems with the imposing Dane, and vice versa. That was good to see.

"Gilbert." Feliks fluttered his false eyelashes at the albino. "Nice to see you prospering."

"Kesesese! You've no idea. And we owe it all to lovely little Lovino, don't we?" He patted the now-scowling Lovino on the head. "Thanks." Before the Italian knew what was happening, Gilbert had leaned down and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"Dammit!"

"Oh, stop complaining," Arthur chided him. "You know he loves you."

"Bastards, all of you," Lovino muttered, making the others chuckle. "I'm going for a drink. Want anything?" he asked Arthur.

"Eh, no, I'm good."

Lovino hurried away from the kissy albino and headed to the bar, where one of the catering staff poured him a glass of wine. This party – well – it wasn't as bad as he'd feared, but he still missed the quiet Christmas tradition of spending the day lounging around alone with Arthur.

Of course, most of the time they lounged around alone anyway. So he could deal with a little change, once a year.

"Lovino! This is such an intricate establishment you have. I'm quite pleased that you invited Vash and me to join you."

"I agree," he said, turning from the bar to face Roderich and Vash. "People need to keep in touch with their – their friends." He felt himself blushing a little and drank to conceal it.

"We're thinking of moving to a new home as well. A real house, somewhere more private than our condominium. Vash has been doing very well in his government job, and we're making a little more money with the ensemble, too."

"Isn't Swiss real estate rather expensive? We did do a little research on it."

"There are some things within our reach," Vash stated bluntly.

Whoops. Maybe Lovino had sounded too condescending? Ah, no, that was just the way Vash was.

But no. "You're still a bastard, Lovino," the Swiss man muttered. Roderich, shocked, pinched his hand discreetly, but Lovino found himself laughing.

"Yeah, I know it. But I'm sorry." He laughed some more at the relieved expression on Roderich's face.

Ludwig and Feli approached. "The musicians are quite good, Lovi, ve. How did you find them?"

"Stroke of luck. They were playing at a restaurant that Arthur and I like to frequent. You know I'm no music expert, but they sounded good to me."

"They're fine," Roderich repeated, resting his hand briefly on Lovino's shoulder.

Vash drew the potato bastard off to the side and began talking to him. Roderich turned to Feli. "I saw you dancing. You like to dance?"

"Ludwig and I love to dance together, ve. We go almost every weekend."

"Isn't it difficult to find a place in Rome, a place that doesn't frown on two men dancing together? I thought Rome was very strict that way."

As Feli began to explain this to the Austrian, Lovino turned to check on the guests again. The musicians were taking a short break; Alfred was talking to them about something. Well, dammit, he needed to speak to all of his guests, so he might as well get that over with.

"Bastard. Having a good time?"

"Dude, this is an awesome party. I never get to go to these classy things."

Lovino bit back the obvious response. Instead he asked, "How are things with Natalia?"

Alfred took his arm and drew him into a corner, where the blond could keep an eye on the room. "I still don't know what to do, man. She proposed to me."

The brunet began laughing. "And you said no? And you're still alive? Dammit."

Arthur popped up at his side. "Are you giving Lovino a hard time, Alfred?" he asked hotly.

"Bastard, Natalia proposed to him!"

"Bloody hell_._ And you said no? You like living on the edge, don't you?"

This just made Alfred scowl more, and Lovino laugh louder. Alfred punched him in the arm to make him stop, and Lovino was so astonished by this that he immediately stopped laughing and backed away. "Oops," Alfred said, reaching to protect his nose.

"Don't be stupid. I'm not going to beat you up in the middle of my party."

"Sorry," the American muttered.

"Anyway," Lovino said, determined to get past that, "you should marry her. Even if it doesn't work out, with a good pre-nup you could take her for half her fortune."

"That is so like you," Alfred sneered, "and so totally unheroic. I would never do that."

"Alfred, you're a wanker. Just make up your damn mind. Stop stringing the girl along."

"Exactly what I told him, kesesese!" Gilbert appeared and put an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "I don't know the lady well, but I bet the two of you really are suited to each other. Stop being a hero and just be Alfred."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred punched Gilbert in the shoulder this time; Lovino took this as a cue to move on.

Mathias was still talking to Natalia, but he was looking a bit hassled. "Hey, bastard," he whispered to Arthur, gesturing with his chin. "I'm going to go rescue him."

"Once more into the breach, dear friends," Arthur quipped, and Lovino left the three friends behind.

"With a credit rating like this I should be able to easily finance – oh, hello," Natalia said dismissively. Mathias, by contrast, got a great look of relief on his face.

"Pestering my friends? Don't."

"Why did you even invite me to this party, Lovino, if you're going to keep badgering me all night?" Natalia was snappish, and then she slowly turned predator again. "Unless you're bored with your punk faggot, and this is your way of getting my attention?" She trailed a fingernail along his jaw; he smacked her hand away.

"Dammit, Natalia –"

Arthur, sneaking up behind him, slid his arms around Lovino's waist and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Lady giving you grief?" He let go immediately, though, which was good.

"I didn't invite you," Lovino snapped to Natalia, thankful for Arthur's intervention, but nervous about the semi-public hug and kiss. "We invited Alfred. It was his decision to invite you, so go pester him."

"Where is my Alfred, anyway?" she asked, scanning the room. "Oh. Right. Well, yes, he's much better company than you are." She sneered and headed towards the American.

"Damn," Mathias said. "Not much rancor there, is there?" He and Arthur both chuckled.

"It's all water under the bridge. Natalia's just that kind of bitchy woman; she's probably like that with Alfred, when they're alone."

"Bollocks. Don't make me think about that; just _don't_."

"Well, Caesar had a great day," the Dane told them. "He and Fritz have free run of the house tonight."

"Bet they're having fun with that." The two dogs were already best of friends, and barked like crazy whenever they saw each other. By contrast, Fritz was scared of Lovino's kittens, whom he'd eventually named Scuro and Luce.

"We gave them some steak to celebrate the holiday. I hope you don't mind."

"It should be all right," Arthur told him. "As long as you didn't overdo it. Thank you."

"No problem. And, Lovino?"

"What, bastard?"

"Thank you again for giving Gilbert and me the chance to be together. You won't regret it, I promise." Mathias stuck his hand out and Lovino shook it with a grin.

"Make sure I don't," he laughed, then shrugged. "Ah, I trust you two. Don't know why, but I do."

Arthur had turned to scope the room. "Looks like Natalia's badgering Feli, instead of Alfred. Let me go take care of that."

"Thanks, bastard."

He watched Arthur hurry away, and when he turned back, the potato bastard had joined him and Mathias. "Lovino, I must thank you for the wonderful week's holiday you've given me and Feliciano. We are enjoying ourselves immensely, and your home – your winery – it seems as though it will be a big success. We plan to support you as much as we can, once your wines become available in Rome."

"Thank you. I – I'm glad that you and Feli are so happy together, and that you were able to join us for the season." Lovino took a deep breath. "F-friends should spend important days together."

"I agree!" Ludwig smiled and extended his hand; Lovino shook it. Yeah, the bastard was a fucking macho potato, but…he wasn't that bad. He noticed Mathias grinning at him and turned away hurriedly, just as Feli hurried up to grab Ludwig's arm, as if for protection.

"Ve, Lovi, now I see what you mean about that lady. She's very harsh!"

Everyone turned to look at Natalia, who was frowning and saying something to Arthur, but he was smiling pleasantly at her, seemingly unruffled. He raised an arm and flagged down Alfred, who was chatting up Feliks' date.

Ludwig and Feli moved off to the dance floor again, and Mathias wandered off, probably to find the albino bastard, but Lovino stayed in place and watched as Alfred joined Arthur and Natalia and then gently led the woman away. Arthur grinned at his ex-boyfriend's retreating back and then walked over to the bar for a refill of his drink.

Huh. Lovino hadn't noticed that some decorating fiend had hung mistletoe over the bar. Heh heh. He made his way to Arthur's side – thankfully this side of the bar was somewhat in shadow, leading as it did to the winery offices – and tapped him on the shoulder. "You're under the mistletoe, bastard," he grinned.

"What? Well, are you actually going to kiss me, in front of all these people? I know you're making progress, but I have a hard time believing you'd have the – " Arthur's voice was cut off as Lovino grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close to kiss.

Dammit, he didn't even care if people were watching. He loved Arthur, and he loved kissing Arthur, and there was the mistletoe, and –

"Kesesese!"

As if that were a signal, the room was suddenly flooded with the sound of applause and catcalls. Lovino drew back immediately and turned, red-faced, to frown at all his frivolous party guests, but Arthur was sheepishly laughing. "Merry Christmas," he said to the brunet.

"Dammit. Come on, let's get out of here." Lovino grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him down the dark hallway towards the building's back door.

He unlocked the door and shoved Arthur outside. "Come on, let's walk. I need to get out of there."

Arthur was still laughing a little, but followed him down the glass path in the chill December air. When they got to their favorite bench, Lovino stopped and turned to him. "Sorry, bastard. Don't know what came over me."

"Eh, it's all right. By now I think they all know that we kiss once in a while. Though it was a bit bizarre to listen to all the clapping and whistling!"

Arthur kissed him again, and this time Lovino allowed himself to enjoy it. "Fuck tradition," he said, when they'd broken apart. "Next Christmas I'm taking you on a Caribbean cruise. _Alone_."

"Fine by me, boss," Arthur smiled, pulling him into another embrace.

…

_This is the end of the story. I want to heartily thank everyone who read the story, whether you reviewed or not; I hope that everyone has enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun to write, and to develop the story based on your comments. _

_There is now a sequel, "Love and Art: Book II," which I started after this, and it's sort of a blend of "Love and Art" and "Life Sketches." I got a little bored with it, so it's only a few chapters long, but you may enjoy learning how the Alfred-Natalia situation turned out!_

_Thanks again!_


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